"The Shadow Discovers Other Shadows"
Samuel stayed with Combeferre that night; they slept side-by-side, and Combeferre put an arm around Samuel, making him feel grateful and warm.
He awoke in the morning before Combeferre, pulled off the old nightshirt that had been lent him, and re-dressed in some of Combeferre's clothes, which were all too big for him. He rolled up the sleeves and the cuffs of the breeches, and sat on the bedside watching Combeferre sleep.
He couldn't help but think how different people with spectacles looked when they weren't wearing them. He smiled, and picked up the pair of spectacles from Combeferre's bedside table, and peered through them. He blinked, quite surprised at how everything had suddenly gotten very blurry and sharp at the same time. He put them down guiltily, and shook Combeferre awake.
"Oh! I beg your pardon. I didn't realise I'd overslept." Combeferre yawned and reached for his spectacles. Samuel put them in his hand.
"You haven't. It's only very early yet. I'm not going to classes to-day. I'm doing as you said. I'm going out, and I shall speak to people."
"Will you?"
"Yes." Samuel smiled a little at Combeferre.
"Good. Then shall I see you this afternoon?"
"Yes, of course," said Samuel.
Combeferre smiled back: a gentle, warm smile that made Samuel feel almost dizzy. "All right." Samuel dropped to the floor, and began putting on his stockings and shoes, while Combeferre watched, slightly amused. "My clothes are too big for you."
"I don't mind. I like them," said Samuel without even thinking, for he did. They smelled like Combeferre, and were much softer than his own clothes, because they'd been worn oftener. He got up, and dipped his head for a farewell. "I'll see you this afternoon. Au revoir."
"Au'voir."
Samuel slipped out, closing the door behind him.
Combeferre dressed slowly, thinking of him. He really had believed Samuel was Dimitri, all that time. But, he thought, he perhaps preferred Samuel. Dimitri had known what he was doing, and had been very charming, in an elegant sort of way. He had been quite self-possessed, and more grown up. Samuel was rather childish. But then Samuel had all the charm of sad-eyed child who tried to act older than he was. Although he clearly stumbled about more than Dimitri would have, he was softer and sweeter than his elder brother.
Combeferre tied back his hair and left for his classes.
Later that day, Samuel returned. But rather than going to the cafe or to Combeferre's, he went back to his room, locked himself in, and set savagely to writing.
Combeferre found himself a little worried when he came back from the college, and he made the short journey to Samuel's boarding-house rather apprehensively. The difficulty with children was that things made hard impressions on them. He rapped on Samuel's door.
"Enjolras?"
"Combeferre? Oh. I'm sorry." Samuel unlocked the door, and opened it. "Come in."
Combeferre realised that Samuel was rather pale, and his eyes had the slightly widened look of having seen something frightening or shocking. "Are you all right?"
"I've done as you said. I understand now," Samuel said, and his eyes looked older than they had before.
"Ah."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" Combeferre asked, surprised.
"For a lot of things." Samuel turned. "I've written some speeches, and I should be obliged if you looked over them."
"Certainly," said Combeferre, and he stepped over to Samuel's little writing-desk.
They spoke no more of the matter then, or ever again, but it was evident to Combeferre, if to no one else, that there was a sharper reason now behind what Samuel did. The child had lost some of his childishness, and Combeferre felt a little sad. He wasn't sure, now, that it should have happened yet.
Samuel stayed with Combeferre that night; they slept side-by-side, and Combeferre put an arm around Samuel, making him feel grateful and warm.
He awoke in the morning before Combeferre, pulled off the old nightshirt that had been lent him, and re-dressed in some of Combeferre's clothes, which were all too big for him. He rolled up the sleeves and the cuffs of the breeches, and sat on the bedside watching Combeferre sleep.
He couldn't help but think how different people with spectacles looked when they weren't wearing them. He smiled, and picked up the pair of spectacles from Combeferre's bedside table, and peered through them. He blinked, quite surprised at how everything had suddenly gotten very blurry and sharp at the same time. He put them down guiltily, and shook Combeferre awake.
"Oh! I beg your pardon. I didn't realise I'd overslept." Combeferre yawned and reached for his spectacles. Samuel put them in his hand.
"You haven't. It's only very early yet. I'm not going to classes to-day. I'm doing as you said. I'm going out, and I shall speak to people."
"Will you?"
"Yes." Samuel smiled a little at Combeferre.
"Good. Then shall I see you this afternoon?"
"Yes, of course," said Samuel.
Combeferre smiled back: a gentle, warm smile that made Samuel feel almost dizzy. "All right." Samuel dropped to the floor, and began putting on his stockings and shoes, while Combeferre watched, slightly amused. "My clothes are too big for you."
"I don't mind. I like them," said Samuel without even thinking, for he did. They smelled like Combeferre, and were much softer than his own clothes, because they'd been worn oftener. He got up, and dipped his head for a farewell. "I'll see you this afternoon. Au revoir."
"Au'voir."
Samuel slipped out, closing the door behind him.
Combeferre dressed slowly, thinking of him. He really had believed Samuel was Dimitri, all that time. But, he thought, he perhaps preferred Samuel. Dimitri had known what he was doing, and had been very charming, in an elegant sort of way. He had been quite self-possessed, and more grown up. Samuel was rather childish. But then Samuel had all the charm of sad-eyed child who tried to act older than he was. Although he clearly stumbled about more than Dimitri would have, he was softer and sweeter than his elder brother.
Combeferre tied back his hair and left for his classes.
Later that day, Samuel returned. But rather than going to the cafe or to Combeferre's, he went back to his room, locked himself in, and set savagely to writing.
Combeferre found himself a little worried when he came back from the college, and he made the short journey to Samuel's boarding-house rather apprehensively. The difficulty with children was that things made hard impressions on them. He rapped on Samuel's door.
"Enjolras?"
"Combeferre? Oh. I'm sorry." Samuel unlocked the door, and opened it. "Come in."
Combeferre realised that Samuel was rather pale, and his eyes had the slightly widened look of having seen something frightening or shocking. "Are you all right?"
"I've done as you said. I understand now," Samuel said, and his eyes looked older than they had before.
"Ah."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" Combeferre asked, surprised.
"For a lot of things." Samuel turned. "I've written some speeches, and I should be obliged if you looked over them."
"Certainly," said Combeferre, and he stepped over to Samuel's little writing-desk.
They spoke no more of the matter then, or ever again, but it was evident to Combeferre, if to no one else, that there was a sharper reason now behind what Samuel did. The child had lost some of his childishness, and Combeferre felt a little sad. He wasn't sure, now, that it should have happened yet.