"Musichetta?" Marquette gasped as she saw her sister walking teary eyed with the boys in tow.
"Hello, Marquette." She sniffled. "Feuilly…Jehan…Courfeyrac." She mumbled dropping her gaze from the men.
"What happened?" Marquette left Jerome's side and hugged her sister tightly.
Musichetta was staring at Feuilly who with a jolt realized that something was terribly amiss. "Why?" She asked him brokenly. "Why would you follow that…that…impassive…heartless…" She broke off into a genuine sob and the boys huddled together nervously, unsure what to do with their weeping guardian.
"Oh." Feuilly muttered as he put his arms around Musichetta and allowed her to cry into his shoulder. He gave and significant glance to his comrades both of whom looked anxiously at Musichetta.
"She knows?" Courfeyrac asked, uncomfortably. He preferred a laughing woman to a sobbing one and was almost as uncertain as the young boys were of the situation.
"Yes, I know! And why, Courfeyrac? Why? What is wrong with you? And you, Jehan? How can you even consider treas---" Feuilly gently pressed his hand against her mouth, stopping word before it could fully leave her lips.
"There are ears around the city, and one does not talk of these things in the streets." He whispered into her ear. "We'll discuss this after we get the others back to the—"
But Musichetta broke away from him shaking with emotion. "I won't allow it. I won't allow Enjolras to kill him, I just can't allow it." She paused a second before adding, "Any of them. Any of you."
Feuilly let the statement hang in the air for a while. When he spoke it was with soft deliberation. "Courfeyrac, you will watch over Marquette and Jerome. Jehan, you will watch over the boys. Buy them supper and take them back to your place…you have a house to yourself, do you not?"
Prouvaire nodded quickly and grinned lopsidedly. "I have a housekeeper who is going to wonder what on earth I've been up to, but I actually relish her expression." He commented gesturing for the boys to follow him.
René looked uneasily at Musichetta. "Is it alright for us to go, Musichetta?" The other boys also glanced at their maternal minded guardian, who smiled in a strained sort of way and told them that they would be fine with Prouvaire. The boys followed the poet curious and eager to finally get their dinner.
Courfeyrac stepped between Jerome and Marquette. "You two are in for an evening, (what is left of it anyway,) of the utmost dullness and chaste, the likes of which one would never guess that I could provide." Smiling broadly he lead the somewhat annoyed youth, one on each arm in the direction of the Corinth wine shop. With its decidedly lousy food and lack of service, it was all together the least romantic spot Courfeyrac could think of.
Feuilly pulled Musichetta closer to him as soon as he saw they were alone, and lead her into an alley. "Now, we need to talk."
"I don't want to talk about it." Musichetta dropped her gaze.
"I realize you don't. How do you expect to clothe and feed them as well as your sister and yourself?"
Musichetta wouldn't look him in the eye. "I'll think of a way."
"You'd all be in the streets in a month."
"You cannot be certain—" she bit her lip hard as she realized how close she had come to quoting Enjolras.
"You know about what we aim to do." The tone was infinitely gentle.
This time she did look Feuilly in the eye. "And how Enjolras would have you do it." She spat out the statement almost viciously, her hatred apparent in every feature on her face. "The fool." Considering the venom with which she now regarded Enjolras, "fool" seemed to be a tender moniker indeed.
The orphan nodded sadly. "You are a good woman, Musichetta. That's why Joly loves you."
Another time, perhaps even an hour earlier, Musichetta would have wept at the statement. However, all it did was anger her even further.
"He loves me? Odd way of showing love, if you ask me, David! Did he just sit around one day and suddenly go, 'Oh, how I love Musichetta! I think I'll join an organization run by a madman who has a bloodlust. That will surely prove my adoration.' Is that it?"
"It isn't Joly you're angry with, Musichetta." Feuilly remarked. "You know it."
Her lip quivered. "I hate Enjolras."
"I know."
"You all…you all have women who love you…how can…how can you just…forget…about us? Surely you all aren't so blind that you do not see the danger in the game you are playing?" She looked up at Feuilly with a pleading glance, although she wasn't certain what she wanted the fan maker to say.
"Our lives are our own to wager. Enjolras did not force a single one of us into joining Les Amis."
"I've always thought Joly was very sensible." She mumbled. "It's one of the things that made me fall in love with him. He always bundles up when it is cold, he brings an umbrella if it is raining…nice sensible things." Musichetta shut her eyes and leaned against Feuilly for support. "I'm fond of Bossuet too, mind you. He makes me laugh. He's around so much, I know his every quirk. I care for him deeply, but he is more of a beloved friend. I don't love him, not as I do Joly."
Feuilly put a protective brotherly arm around Musichetta. "Why would my nice sensible Joly join in something that is far more likely to kill him than cholera or a fever is?" She asked pitifully.
"Talk to him about it once we get him back again." Feuilly urged.
"What if he sides with Enjolras?" Musichetta tensed.
"Charles-Leon Joly, side with Enjolras over Musichetta? The same Musichetta who got him to wear doeskin breeches?"
Musichetta giggled in spite of herself and attempted to dry her eyes. "They looked so ridiculous on those scrawny legs of his."
Feuilly smiled kindly. "Talk with him. He admires and respects Enjolras, but my fair mademoiselle, he loves you."
"It wouldn't be fair to the others if I left them as they are, would it." Musichetta stated shakily. "Bahorel…Combeferre…they deserve to be as they were." She looked at Feuilly abashedly. "I told Enjolras I would report him if he came near any of you."
"Will you still?"
Musichetta shook her head bitterly. "I'd like to maim him bodily, but I will not report him to the police." She gripped Feuilly's sleeve and added in a low voice, "But only because it would possibly endanger the others." she mumbled.