EVENTS LEADING UP TO THE FIRST MISTAKE
"Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius," Eponine whispered, gritting her teeth. "I don't feel any pain." She was a brave, brave girl, Enjolras thought as he watched from a distance. Feuilly climbed down to care for Eponine, but he pushed the man back. Feuilly pleaded with Enjolras with his eyes, yet there was no swaying the commander. He knew there was no hope, however he also knew how to let someone die with dignity. "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now. You're here; that's all I need to know." Her hand reached up weakly to touch his cheek. Her fingertips were soft and warm on his skin, and her shaking seemed to quell a bit when they moved to his lips. "And you will keep me safe... and you... will keep me close. And rain will make the flowers grow."
"But you will live, 'Ponine," Marius said, more of a plea than a promise. His eyes burned with hot tears at her caress of his lips. "Dear God above! If I could heal your wounds with words of love!"
"Just hold me now, and let it be," Eponine said softly. He kissed her fingertips tenderly, and a new feeling rose in his agonized heart. That love he felt for Cosette; could it have truly been meant for this girl upon his lap? This soldier who had rather seen herself die than him? "Shelter me, comfort me..." Marius barely heard her over his own thoughts. Cradling her with one arm, he touched her hand with his own.
"You would live a hundred years if I could show you how. I won't desert you now." It was a promise he could keep to her after the pain he had involuntarily dealt. Tears of joy filled her glazing eyes.
"The rain can't hurt me now. This rain will wash away what's past. And you will keep me safe, and you will keep me close... I'll sleep in your embrace at last!" She seemed to muster a little strength, enough to touch his hair the way she had done on the street where he had left her for Cosette. So many images of Eponine suddenly flooded Marius's vision: Her defense at the attack on Rue Plumet, her smile each time she saw him, the pain in her eyes that he had never noticed when speaking to Cosette, the hidden hurt when he asked her to deliver the letter. The letter that had killed her. It was because of him.
"The rain that sends you here is heaven blessed! The skies begin to clear, and I'm at rest... A.. breath away... from where you are..." Her bleeding slowed with her heart, and her skin began to pale. "I've... come home... from so far...!"
"Hush-a-bye, dear Eponine, you won't feel any pain..." One of Marius's tears wet her lips. "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt you now. I'm here..."
"That's... all I need to know!" Eponine whispered, barely audible.
"And I will stay with you till you are sleeping..."
"And rain..."
"And rain..."
"Will make the flowers..."
"Will make the flowers..."
A soft sigh of happiness, and then silence. Eponine was not much more than a shell.
"Grow," Marius finished with a sob. He bent and kissed her on the mouth. He thought she might have felt it. Then he laid her on the ground and covered her with his stained coat. Enjolras let him be a moment before allowing Feuilly to wash Eponine's blood off of Marius's hands.
"She is the first to fall," he said slowly, staring at the body. "The first of us to fall upon his barricade."
"Her name was Eponine," Marius said, looking away from Feuilly and to Enjolras. "Her life was cold and dark, yet she was unafraid." He said it in such a way that Enjolras imagined he wanted to instill that memory of the girl in everyone's mind.
"We fight here in her name," Combeferre said soothingly, putting an arm around Marius as he fell victim again to tears.
"She will not die in vain." That assurance came from Prouvaire, who stood over the head of the body. Courfeyrac, silent with the shock perhaps, knelt at the feet.
"She will not be betrayed," added Lesgles. Courfeyrac and Prouvaire lifted Eponine's body and carried it to the edge of the barricade and laid her amongst the flowers still wet from the rain.
"Here comes a man in uniform!" reported Joly, having taken both positions for the time being as guard. Indeed, an old man had made it over the barricade. Joly looked at him warily; he was unarmed. "What brings you to this place?"
"I come here as a volunteer," he said in a strong voice that Marius recognized. He looked up at Jean Valjean as several students surrounded him.
"Approach and show your face," Joly instructed.
"You wear an army uniform," growled Feuilly.
"That's why they let me through," explained Valjean.
"You've got some years behind you, sir." Joly again.
"There's much that I can do," answered Valjean.
Joly nodded toward the tavern. Through the window, Javert's bound form could be seen. "You see that prisoner over there?"
"A volunteer like you," Grantaire finished as he looked Valjean over. Unable to put a face to the man, Valjean turned, but found his way blocked by Combeferre.
"A spy who calls himself Javert!" At this, Valjean tensed. The Inspector who had hunted him for years? Here, a prisoner of the barricade?
"He's going to get it, too!" Graintaire.
"They're getting ready to attack!" Joly called to Enjolras, who was coming upon Valjean quickly. He handed the old man a pistol and looked at his face. He could see no dishonesty there; only a truthful countenance. But one could never be too careful.
"Take this, and use it well! But if you shoot us in the back, you'll never live to tell."
"Platoon of sappers advancing toward the barricade!" Joly yelled. The blood had dried on his injured cheek.
"Troops behind them, fifty men or more!" Feuilly warned also. Abandoning the old man, Enjolras climbed to his post on the barricade and waited for the fighters to assemble. He then aimed his own weapon into the oncoming platoon.
"Fire!" he commanded.
Shot after shot rang out like rapid spasms of thunder. Explosions lit up the battlefield and ammunition penetrated the barricade. Behind him, Combeferre heard a sympathizer fall dead. The rest began to crouch behind the fortifications.
"Sniper!" Feuilly called, gesturing to his left. The man had a clear shot at Enjolras's head, but was prevented by an abrupt collapse of his skull. Valjean had dispatched the sniper, and Enjolras had looked too late. He glanced at his savior, but was quickly drawn back into the battle.
The platoon began to dwindle, and then a call was sounded. Retreat ensued. The students remained in their positions firing at the backs of their enemies until they had passed out of range. Lesgles laughed hysterically.
"See how they run away!"
"By God," Grantaire breathed, "we've won the day!"
"They will be back again and make an attack again," Enjolras reminded them icily. His brush with death was having an adverse affect on his disposition. He turned to Valjean and bowed partially. "For your presence of mind, for the deed you have done, I will thank you, M'sieur, when our battle is won." As he straightened, Valjean held up a hand and shook his head. The kindly, weathered, dark-skinned face held no pride in saving Enjolras's life. It was humble.
"Give me no thanks, M'sieur, there's something you can do."
"If it is in my power," Enjolras relented with some hesitation.
"Give me the spy Javert -- let me take care of him!"
Not far away, in the tavern, Javert overheard Valjean and Enjolras's conversation. He thrashed against his bonds and made his wrists raw with the effort.
"The law is inside out!" he cried. "The world is upside-down!"
"Do what you have to do," Enjolras said. It would make his troops happy. "The man belongs to you." He turned then to his men, assessing the damage. The barricade had taken a bit of a beating, and there were a few dead on his side, but none of the students. Feuilly was cleaning Joly's laceration up at their post. "The enemy may be regrouping," he said, thinking of the officer who had earlier tried to defeat them with propaganda from a distance. Something about those eyes haunted him, and would not leave him be. "Hold yourselves in readiness. Come on, my friends, back to your positions. The night is falling fast."
Valjean quietly crossed the barricade to the tavern, and stood before Javert whose face was hidden by the sack around his head. He removed it and threw it aside. Javert's eyes first fell on Valjean's face. The Inspector was wet with sweat, and his hair was matted. He no longer looked so cold or distinguished.
"We meet again," Valjean murmured.
"You've hungered for this all your life," Javert replied. "Take your revenge!" He lowered his eyes to the shining knife in Valjean's hand. His sneer mixed with a smile. "How right you should kill with a knife!"
Valjean lunged forward. He cut the ropes holding Javert's hands behind his back. "You talk too much," he explained at Javert's confusion. "Your life is safe in my hands."
"Don't... understand..."
"Get out of here!"
Javert stood and brushed himself off, turning slowly to leave. Halfway to the back door, he looked back to Valjean and clenched his fists.
"Valjean, take care -- I'm warning you!"
"Clear out of here!" Valjean repeated.
"Once a thief, forever a thief! What you want, you always steal! You would trade your life for mine; yes, Valjean, you want a deal! Shoot me now for all I care! If you let me go, beware: You'll still answer to Javert!" Javert's words sounded hollow on Valjean's ears, as if the policeman were saying them to reassure himself rather than to tear down Valjean. He raised his head high, the way he had always wanted to do in front of Javert, and aimed his pistol at his face.
"You are wrong," he said evenly. "And always have been wrong." He cocked the gun. "I'm a man no worse than any man. You are free, and there are no conditions; no bargains or petitions. There's nothing that I blame you for. You've done your duty, nothing more. If I come out of this alive, you'll find me at number fifty-five Rue Plumet. No doubt our paths will cross again."
Valjean fired the gun into the air. As Javert escaped, he could hear the muted applause of the students who believed Valjean to have shot him.
"Courfeyrac, you take the watch," Enjolras said outside. "They won't attack until it's light. Everybody, stay awake. We must be ready for the fight -- for the final fight. Let no one sleep tonight!" Then he turned to Marius, whose face was ashen and devoid of any happiness. As the defenders began to settle in their places, he touched the boy's shoulder. "Marius, rest."
Grantaire poured drinks into several cups and began to pass them out. Feuilly took a long swallow of his wine and looked to the people below him.
"Drink with me to days gone by. Sing with me the songs we knew."
"Here's the pretty girls who went to our heads!" added Prouvaire.
"Here's to witty girls who went to our beds," Joly said wistfully.
"Here's to them," the three chorused, "and here's to you!" They toasted upon the barricade.
"Drink with me to days gone by," Grantaire said softly, gazing into the darkness of his wine. "Can it be you fear to die? Will the world remember you when you fall? Can it be your death... means nothing at all...?"
From the side of the barricade, Enjolras spied the army officer watching the group closely. He began to sound alarm, but the man caught his eyes again. The two stared for a long time as they had done at their first meeting, then the army officer put a finger to his lips for silence. Enjolras watched as he disappeared back into the shadows. What could he do?
"Is your life just one more lie?" finished Grantaire.
"Drink with me to days gone by. To the life that used to be!" the students toasted again.
"At the shrine of friendship, never say die!" added a drunken woman.
"Let the wine of friendship never run dry!" was the reply from the man at her side.
"Here's to you, and here's to me!" they all finished.
Marius shook his head and laid down upon a bench, his eyes misty again, but also feeling dry and itching.
"Do I care if I should die? Now she goes across the sea." He was speaking of Cosette again. Enjolras looked in the direction of Eponine's resting place sadly. "Life without Cosette means nothing at all. Would you weep, Cosette, should Marius fall? Will you weep Cosette for me?" That was all the young man had to say before a desperate sleep overtook him. Despite Enjolras's orders, his troops had all fallen into slumber. Courfeyrac was the only one left awake; he sat drowsily at his watch. Enjolras climbed to the top of the barricade and assured Courfeyrac of his safety, then slipped down to the opposite side. He heard Valjean mutter something to Marius, but was not fully aware of what was being said. He had a far more pressing goal: To find the army officer.
Slowly he crawled amongst the shadows, pistol in hand, trying to be soft and quiet upon the loud earth. He visited the platform, but the officer was not there. He ducked beneath it and found him resting, just as the others were back at his camp. A soldier beside him cradled a bottle of scotch. There were not so many differences between the two factions.
The cocking of Enjolras's gun awoke the officer. He stared up at the man without fear and not once looked to the barrel of the pistol. Enjolras held it level for a moment before lowering it to the ground. He turned to leave, but soon felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He stopped and allowed the army officer to come around in front of him. The man was short; he had never realized how short until standing face to face with him. Never had he noticed the handsome features, either. The soft curve of the tip of his nose, the full lips, the thick blonde hair pushed into the beret, the long eyelashes fettering gorgeous emerald eyes that shimmered in the moon. Never had he noticed, either, the smallness of the hands. The man led Enjolras to a long, dark shadow cast by the barricade and sat down against a tree with him. He took off his beret. Long, golden hair fell to the officer's shoulders and Enjolras was able to see clearly his mistake.
"My name," the officer said, "is Martine." Enjolras stared at the woman and knew how Marius must have felt upon seeing Cosette for the first time. Something in his mind was certain that this girl was far more beautiful than Marius's beloved. He set down his pistol and removed his beret out of good manners.
"I am Enjolras," he said softly.
