"Number 17…Piaget's Café…"
"Hmmm….Montessori and Sons…Number 19…"
"What number is it supposed to be?"
"21."
"Tabula Rosa…Number 21!" Musichetta cried happily pointing at the hanging sign.
"The Blank Slate." A small voice said timidly. The two adults turned to see Jean looking up at the sign.
Enjolras nodded curtly. "Yes. Good translation."
Jean nodded nervously, a trembling sort of bow. "Thank you monsieur."
Enjolras gave a strained smile, which only seemed to make the child more anxious. With a sigh, he pushed the door open. A small bell tinkled overhead, as the group crowded into the store. The boys had fallen into an uneasy silence as they huddled closely to Musichetta.
"Ah. I thought I might be seeing you." A wheezing voice said from behind the counter.
Musichetta and Enjolras looked in surprise at the elderly woman who was leaning on the counter for support. She was glaring at them with a sort of sarcastic amusement gleaming in her sharp eyes.
"But…" She looked at the boys. "There seems to be an extra child here." She frowned. "That was certainly unexpected…and undesired." She added in a wheeze.
"Who are you?" Enjolras snapped.
"I am Orka."
"Well, Orka…give me my friends back!" Enjolras growled.
Orka was gazing at the boys and acted as if she had not heard Enjolras' demand. "The one with glasses…I gave him the wine…the one with the blonde hair…I saw him…that obnoxious creature is the one who knocked me over…and that one I recognize…" her gaze landed finally on Jean. "But you, little one, I haven't seen."
"That's because he wasn't there." Musichetta said, putting a protective hand on Jean's shoulder as he shrank away from the probing gaze of the old woman.
"Ah. I see." Orka nodded and reached into a basket that sat on the counter. "Would you like a toffee, little one?" She handed the sweet to Jean.
"Thank you, Madame." The boy eagerly popped it into his mouth before either Musichetta or Enjolras could utter a word of warning.
"I wanted one too!" Michel cried looking at Jean with avarice gleaming in his eyes.
Orka tossled Jean's hair. "Little one, I have a paper full of these in the back. Would you be a dear, and get it so all of your little friends can have one too?"
"Yes, Madame." Jean said thickly as he chewed up his toffee. Then he hurried into the back of the store.
"Lovely." Enjolras said hissing. "I swear to you, if that thing you gave him turns him into a newt…or a toad…I'll…I'll."
A bewildered, yet familiar cry came from the back of the store.
"Jean?" Musichetta asked, alarmed. "I'd better go and see what is…"
"No!" A panicked, yet distinctly older male voice from the back stammered. "No, no, please…don't come back…Musichetta….I'm…er…not…decent."
"Jehan?" Enjolras queried.
"Oh, Enjolras, thank God!" Prouvaire's relief was palpable. "Do you…er…have any extra…. clothes? I seem to have…somehow…outgrown mine."
Orka smiled slightly. "Look in the wardrobe, Love. You can wear some of my Lev's clothing. God knows he doesn't need them any longer."
"Thank you Madame."
Musichetta stifled a giggle. "Manners are ingrained in that boy," She said with a smile.
Michel peered anxiously at Enjolras. "Where's Jean?"
Enjolras felt his face flush. "He's…he's…" He trailed off as he caught sight of Jean Prouvaire. "Oh my."
Jehan was dressed in old-fashioned clothing that looked like it would not have been out of place in '93. The excess of lace did not suit the poet, and Enjolras vowed never to poke fun at his friend's true wardrobe again.
"I look like I'm ready for the tumbrel." Jehan complained, pulling on the out of date clothing. "No offense, Madame." He added hastily.
"No need to apologize, boy." Orka said with a smile.
"What exactly happened, anyway? I remember…." Jehan suddenly saw the boys. "Oh!"
"They're still juvenile." Enjolras said bitterly. "She won't turn the rest of them back."
"Oh, well you can't very well leave them like that, can you?" Jehan implored, turning his plaintive gaze towards Orka, as Michel peered up at him with a bewildered look in his eyes.
Orka shrugged. "Why not?"
"Well! Well…Combeferre helped you." Jehan stated, putting one of his hands on René's head. Michel was holding onto his other hand, examining it closely.
"And your other friends left me."
"They're idiots, but they are my brothers. And it isn't very humane, is it? To leave them as children?"
"Ah, yes. Humane." Orka's eyes wandered over to Enjolras. "Perhaps I'm more humane than you give me credit for, child. After all, childhood is an ailment for which the cure is time. There are other ailments from which is much more difficult to come back from."
Jehan frowned. "I don't understand."
Enjolras, whom felt the gypsy hold his eyes with her gaze, felt that he did understand. And he wished to God he did not.