::Eponine::

Eponine sat up in bed, exhausted and bored. She had been cooped up inside for about a day, now that it was late afternoon. She wanted to stretch her legs, well, leg. She knew that was impossible, though. She sighed heavily.

"Confined to this bed." She whispered sullenly. Softly she hummed a tune she had picked up off the streets. Or maybe it wasn't the streets, Eponine couldn't remember. She hummed it, adding words in where she remembered them.

"Mmmm-castele-mmm." Vaguely, the words floated around in her mind. "There is a catsle-mmmmm-cloud." She racked her brains for more. "There is a castle on a cloud." Eponine thought for a moment. "I like to go there in my sleep. Aren't any floors for me to sweep, not in my castle on a cloud." Then it all came back to her. All of it. Cosette, the song, familiarity.

It all came flooding back to her. She yawned. "A child, I was only a child." She put her head on the pillow, and drifted off to sleep.

Eponine was dressed in a blue satin dress. She held her doll in one hand, and her thumb from the other in her mouth.

"Run along, Eponine." Her mother's voice called to her. Her mother was a round woman who owned an inn with her husband, Eponine's father. Their name was Thenardier. Eponine skipped out of the kitchen and into a small room that looked like a supply closet. This was a musty old room, and off to the side was a small girl, sitting under a table. Eponine ran over to her.

"Cosette." She hissed. "You're in rags, a raggedy child. Humph. Cosette. What a horrid name." She laughed. "Ugly name, ugly, child. I see the resemblance." Then Eponine smiled, curtsied graciously, and skipped out of the room. Just then a small voice rang out through the door.
"There is a castle on a cloud. I like to go there in my sleep. Aren't any floors for me to sweep, not in my castle on a cloud. There is a room that's full of toys. There are a hundred boys and girls. Nobody shouts or talks too loud, not in my castle on a cloud."

There was a short pause, and Eponine rolled her eyes. That girl was crazed! She stood still and strained her ears to hear more.
"There is a lady all in white, holds me and sings a lullaby. She's nice to see, and she's soft to touch. She says, "Cosette. I love you very much." I know a place where no one's lost. I know a place where no one cries. Crying at all is not aloud, not in my castle on a cloud."

Then it stopped. Cosette had been singing. Eponine was stunned. She didn't even know that Cosette knew how. Then it came to her. Cosette had been singing when she should have been working, the tramp! Eponine ran into the kitchen and tugged urgently on her mother's skirt.

"Mama!" She cried. Her mother looked down at her.

"Eponine! What is it, Darling?" Eponine smiled. Cosette was in for it now! She pointed to the door that led into the supply closet. "The pantry? Must be Cosette, again. I swear, since that child's mother died, she's been nothing but trouble. You'd think we were abusing her, the way she acts these days!" Mme. Thenardier complained. Eponine nodded and followed her mother into the pantry. "Cosette!" Her mother yelled. Cosette sat upright, her face pale. "Cosette. Not working again I see." Mme. Thenardier said with relish.

Cosette shook her head vigorously. Mme. Thenardier ignored her and went on. "Well, I suppose I'll let you off . . ." Cosette exhaled deeply. "If you go out and fetch some water from the well." Cosette's eyes widened.

"B-but its d-dark out t-there m-madam." Cosette stammered. "Please don't m-make me go out there alone!" Cosette whimpered.

"I wont." Mme. Thenardier replied. "You'll have this bucket to keep you company on your walk." And she shoved a bucket into Cosette's arms. "GO!" Yelled Mme. Thenardier. Cosette gave a yelp and ran out the door. Eponine giggled. "Come." Her mother beckoned to her. "We can't you stay in here, this place is fit only for a tramp. Go and play with your sister."

Eponine skipped off. About an hour later Cosette entered the inn with a man, an old man. Eponine was just as surprised as her mother.

"Cosette!" Screamed Mme. Thenardier, feigning a look of worry. Monsieur, where ever did you find her?" She ran over and hugged Cosette tightly. All the inn-lodgers stared. The man raised his eyebrows at her, and she straightened up.

"I found her," He said. "Outside. In the cold, with no jacket, and a bucket of water." He paused. "She said you sent her to fetch it." He looked at her expectantly.

"Fetch it?" Mme. Thenardier marveled, her voice higher than usual and cracking with nervousness. "Why, no! Certainly a man of your, uh, high respectable manner wouldn't think I, of all people, would send her . . . I mean, this child obviously is disturbed, in her mind." Mme. Thenardier tried to look convincing.

The man gave her a foreboding glance, and she shut up. "I am Monsieur Madeline (ooh-hoo, I spelled that wrong, huh?)." He said. Mme. Thenardier laughed nervously. "I am here, because I would like to take Cosette with me, to the city. I am sure you know of Fantine's tragic death." He paused. Mme. Thenardier was pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. "And there fore, I was appointed to come and take care of Cosette." She looked up.

"I can't just give her to you, can I? I mean, we all love her so much. Like she was one of our own." She was trying to sound convincing again.

"How about 1000 sous?" He suggested. Mme. Thenardier looked skeptical at his bid.

"Medical bills, Monsieur. Not to be rude or anything but she was ill quite often." Jean sighed.

"No more words. Here's you rprice. 1500, for your sacrifice." He shoved the money into her palm.
"Thank you, kind Monsieur. She is all yours." Mme. Thenardier backed away.

"Come Cosette, say goodbye. Let us seek out a friendlier sky.

Thank you all for Cosette. It won't take you to long to forget." And he walked out the door with Cosette in his arms., humming the tune Cosette had sang earlier that very same day.

Eponine stirred. She opened her eyes slowly, recollecting the dream. That was how it happened. "Cosette." Eponine whispered. She pulled herself up and started to sing again. Softly, at first, gaining volume as she went. She was weak, so even her loudest was soft today. She sang the song that Cosette had sung years ago. How did Cosette not remember such things?

Or maybe she did. She seemed to think that this man, Monsieur Madeline, was her father. She wondered how she could have been so awful to Cosette, and how they could still be friends now. She wondered how Cosette could have gone from rags to riches, when she herself had done the exact opposite. She slouched. "I suppose." She said. "That we each got what we deserved." Then she went back to singing, completely oblivious to what was happening around her.