February 16th, 1833

The wedding, although small, had been lovely. All of those present said that they had never before seen a couple more in love, a couple more glad to be married to each other under the eyes of God, or a couple more thankful to be allowed to spend the rest of their lives together. Even the bride's father, no matter how sorry he was to let her go, agreed with these, and wished her and her husband the very best.

One by one, the guests left. The banquet had been eaten hours ago, and the last strains of the music which followed had finally floated away in the chill evening air. Two maids swept around the room, gathering all of the empty champagne glasses, cards, gifts and uneaten food, and fluttered away just as suddenly as they had arrived. Chuckling a little to himself, the grandfather told the new couple to enjoy the rest of their wedding night, and bid them farewell.

Marius and Cosette were alone in the parlour.

"Angel," Marius cooed, holding out his hand to her. "Why don't we-" He broke off, distracted by her beauty, and the feel of her soft hand under his own. "Oh, my love," he sighed. "We are so lucky."

Cosette flashed him a demure smile. "We are," she purred. She lifted up her free hand, and gently caressed Marius' cheek. Closing his eyes in ecstasy, he leaned forward into her until his head rested on her shoulder, and her hand found its way into his ebony tresses.

"I love you, Cosette," he whispered.

"And I love you, Marius," Cosette replied. She brushed her lips against his neck, and felt him tremble slightly at her touch.

They stood there for a few moments, in silent reverence, as one might stand before the Cross.

"Marius?' Cosette ventured. He slowly lifted his head in response.

"Yes, my love?" he murmured.

"Are you tired?"

Marius blushed. "I suppose…maybe a little," he said.

"Would you like to…oh…." Cosette cast her eyes down. "I mean, if you're tired, then we should probably-"

"Go upstairs to-"

"Bed?" Cosette flushed from her cheeks all the way into her bosom. "Perhaps we should."

Marius nodded. "Perhaps," he softly repeated. Without another word, he took her tiny hand, and began to lead her out of the parlour. Cosette took one step, and stopped suddenly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

"What is it, darling?" Marius asked, turning back to her.

"I-I stepped on something. Here." Cosette bent down and picked up a small piece of paper. After looking at it for a moment, she peeked up at her husband. "I think its another card," she said. "I thought that Toussaint had gathered them all."

"Let me see," said Marius.

Cosette promptly handed the card over to him. "I don't think its for you, my love," she said hesitantly.

Marius looked it over, then handed it back to her. "I don't think so either," he admitted. "it's addressed just to you. Why don't you open it, Cosette?"

Cosette looked curiously down at the card, but did nothing.

"Go on, angel," Marius encouraged her. "It's alright."

With a tentative hand, Cosette carefully ripped open the envelope, and took out the little card. She read it to herself and gasped.

"What does it say?" asked Marius eagerly.

"Read it! Read it! Here!" Cosette exclaimed. She thrust the card at him, and clapped her petite hands together in glee.

Marius, more than a little confused, opened the card. It read:

To little Cosette,

I know that it has been four years, and I know that it is no longer Christmas, but I still wanted to send you my best wishes as you receive this final gift. I could not find a suitable prince, but your new husband is a baron, and I thought that would please you just as well. You were very patient, and I am very proud of you. Be good, and I will see you-though you will not see me!-in December.

F.C.

"Cosette," said Marius, holding the card back out to her. "What does this mean?"

Cosette danced over to him, and threw her dainty arms about his neck. "Marius, oh Marius!" she cried. "It means he's real! He's really real!"

"Who's real, Cosette?"

"Father Christmas!"

"Cosette, I don't understand," said Marius. He put a hand out onto her shoulder to halt her wild dancing. "What does any of this have to do with Father Christmas?"

"He's finally given me my last Christmas gift," Cosette explained, beaming. "I asked for dolls and clothes, and candies and books, and I asked for a handsome prince who would fall in love with me and want to marry me. And that's you, Marius! That's you! So he's real! He must be! And he sent me this card so that I would know he was real!" She twirled around, laughing. "And you are my prince, Marius!" She paused, and turned back to him. Taking his face in her hands, she said, "You're perfect, Marius. You're better than any other gift I could ever hope for." She rose up on her tiptoes, and kissed him squarely on the lips. "I love you, Marius."

Marius sighed and smiled, and shook his head. "I won't pretend to understand it, Cosette," he confessed. "But I love you, and if you're happy, then I don't need to understand."

"I am happy, Marius. I really am." Cosette stepped forward, and let Marius wrap his sturdy arms around her. Her head fell forward onto his chest, and she sighed a small sigh of contentment.

After a moment, Marius suggested, "Why don't we go up into-"

"Bed?" Cosette finished, teasingly. "Why don't we?"

Laughing, Marius scooped up his tiny bride, and carried her out of the parlour and up the stairs. And as Marius kicked open the heavy oak door to their bedroom, the couple heard a faint voice cry out, "Merry Christmas, Cosette!"

But when they turned around to see who it was, there was no one there.