I walked into the Café Musain fully intent upon conferring a few new ideas of mine concerning the revolution upon Combeferre, so I was most disappointed to find that he was not there. Nobody was there, in fact; a rare occurrence, considering that usually there are so many boys lazing about drinking and exchanging bawdy stories that I can hardly think straight, let alone accomplish anything meaningful with my right hand man. Upon further deliberation of the situation, however, I decided that this could be a very valuable time for me, should the absent Combeferre actually choose to pay the café a visit today, as the quiet would allow us to complete conversations that would normally go unfinished. I chose a small round table near the back of the café, and, lounging in a chair, picked up a book while I waited for him to arrive.
About twenty minutes later, I was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing quite heavily. Hoping that the sound was heralding the arrival of my dear colleague Combeferre, I quickly glanced at the main entrance to the café. But he was not there. Confused, I looked about; if the sound had not come from the front door, where had it come front? My question was soon answered in the form of rather belaboured breathing coming from behind me. I turned around, and saw Jean Prouvaire struggling with a very tall pile of books and papers.
"Jehan!" I exclaimed, immediately rising to help him with his burden.
"I was unaware that you were here." Looking quite relieved, Jean answered, "Oh, thank you Enjolras! Yes, I've been here for quite some time…writing."
"Have you seen Combeferre?" I asked him eagerly, setting down some of the books on the table.
"No, I can't say that I have," Jean answered.
I suppose that I must have looked very disappointed at his answer, because Jehan looked absolutely crestfallen, and averted his eyes from my gaze. I did not want Jean to think that I spurned his company, so I said to him, "That's quite alright, Jehan. But you said that you were writing in the back room. What are you working on?"
Jean Prouvaire smirked, and set the rest of his load on the table. "I'm preserving a most amusing story for posterity," he replied. "And I should finish it as soon as possible, before the exact details become cloudy in my memory…" He trailed off, and started rifling among the various papers.
I did not know what story he was referring to, so I asked him.
Jean Prouvaire smirked again. "I'm sure you must have heard about Marius' dog?"
My blank expression assured him that I had not.
Jean laughed, and said, "The whole business began after Courfeyrac became convinced that the task of finding a woman for Marius was impossible. And I agree, by the way; it is impossible. But then Courfeyrac became equally convinced that Marius should get a dog, to replace a woman, perhaps. Surely you must now remember hearing of Marius' dog?"
"I really do not."
"Well, then," said Jehan, sitting down, and motioning for me to do the same, "I will simply have to read you what I have so far of my tale."
I nodded, and waited for him to begin.