Back at the tenement – that is, the castle – the lady was helping her father with the spelling of a few letters he was laboring over in the corner. When someone tapped her shoulder, she murmured, "In a minute, 'Parnasse..."

"My lady?"

She turned to see the squire, that is, Grantaire.

"What now?"

"I... I have a letter for you," he stammered.

"Let's have it, then," said Eponine, holding out a hand.

Grantaire seemed a little ashamed. "Well, I... er..."

"I can read, I can," Eponine said. "So let's have it."

"It... it isn't written out, my lady... I... I have it in my head."

"In your head?" she asked, apparently misinterpreting.

"Yes, my lord bids me recite it for you."

She sneezed and wiped her nose on a handkerchief, which she shoved back into her pocket.

"Bless you."

"Thanks. But I don't quite want the whole room-" she glanced at Montparnasse, who was not doing a good job of concealing the fact that he was listening in, "to hear what your master has to say."

Grantaire nodded and trotted back across the room to Enjolras, who was sitting on the edge of the armchair. He whispered something, shrugged, and Enjolras whispered something back. Grantaire came back over to Eponine and said, "My lady, can my master borrow some pen and paper?"

"Papa?"

Jondrette waved his hands at them, and Eponine gave him a sheet of coarse, yellow paper and a pen and inkwell. Grantaire crossed the room again and passed these to Enjolras, who made a motion with his hands. The squire sighed and turned around so that Enjolras could use his back as a surface to lean on as he wrote. A few moments passed, the only noise in the room Enjolras's pen scratching on the paper and Montparnasse impatiently tapping his foot. After a while one of the thugs crossed the room to Jondrette, who was waiting for his pen to be returned him, and began whispering.

Enjolras at last finished and rolled the paper, produced a ribbon and an arrow from his pocket, and tied it to the arrow's shaft. Grantaire passed him a bow, and the knight took shaky aim at the little group on the other side of the room.

"Heads up," Montparnasse called, but it was too late. Enjolras released the string and sent the arrow whizzing across the room and deep into the back of the thug who was conversing with Jondrette.

"Letter for you, 'Ponine," he gasped before collapsing onto the floor.

Jondrette glared at the visitors. "Give me back my pen and ink!"

"Right," Grantaire called back, taking these from Enjolras and returning across the room.

Eponine, meanwhile, had taken the missive out of the thief's back and unrolled it, and was carefully reading it, her lips moving.

She looked up. "Kiss my which?"

Montparnasse's eyes widened.

"The nethermost hem of your garment," Enjolras replied.

Montparnasse relaxed.

She returned to the letter.

"'Token of my fair esteem...' What kind of token?"

"Generally," Grantaire said, "it's a silken scarf."

She laughed and again produced the handkerchief. "Here, give him this."

"But, my lady, that's a rag!"

"Do I look like I'd have a silken scarf? Tell me, why do you follow this man around like you do?"

"Oh, that's easy to explain! I... I..."

"Why?"

"I'm telling you. It's because... because..."

"Why?"

Grantaire shrugged. "I like him. I really like him."

Eponine's eye twitched as the squire crossed the room again.

"That's not right," Montparnasse muttered.

A/N- Heh. This story was really meant to be LM/Man of La Mancha, but the Monty Python references just seem to fit right in. I am, however, a little worried I'll run out of them before I finish the fic... I'm trying to get one into each chapter, just to see what happens.