Marius shifted around uncomfortably. It was chilly standing outside of the Prouvaires' extensive manor, and he felt uncomfortable in his plain, black, worn attire in the midst of all of the richly dressed bourgeois. He turned to his friend.

"Courfeyrac," he whispered. "Why don't we just go home?"

Courfeyrac leaned in close to Marius and hissed back, "No! Prouvaire invited us, and we will attend. There will be scores of women here, and that is a chance that I will not pass off. Besides," Courfeyrac added with a smirk. "I look pretty."

"You look ridiculous," Marius muttered in reply. "You'll never be able to pass yourself off as a woman."

Courfeyrac feigned shock. "Why, Marius, I'm surprised at your lack of faith! How could anyone mistake me for anything but a woman? Just look at me!"

Marius did so, and made a face. Courfeyrac was wearing a pale pink silk evening gown, cut low in the bodice and with tiers of ruffles in the skirt, and a matching hat. He had somehow squeezed his feet into a delicate pair of heeled boots. He had made an attempt to cover the stubble on his chin and cheeks with great amounts of rouge, making the general hue of his face the same as the hue of his garment. He had attached false lashes to his eyelids, and curled them to an extreme degree. And to top it off, he had painted his lips a bright cherry red, which completely and utterly clashed with everything else he had on.

"You look ridiculous," Marius repeated. "Where in God's name did you get that, anyhow?"

"It's Marie's," Courfeyrac replied. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Oh, dear God, it still smells of her unearthly perfume…"

"If it's Marie's," Marius said slowly. "Then why do you have it?"

"She left it at our flat the last time we-oh, I can't even say it! That last glorious weekend I spent with her is the last memory I will ever have! Oh God! It's simply too much to bear!"

Marius sighed, and repeated, "You're never going to pass yourself off as a woman, Courfeyrac."

"Of course I will," Courfeyrac replied breezily. "Now be a good boy and put your arm around my waist."

"What!"

"I said, now be a good boy-"

"I know what you said!" Marius exclaimed. "But I will not put my arm around you! Why is it that other men always want me to touch them? First Grantaire, now you-"

"I'm not Grantaire," Courfeyrac interrupted. "And I'm not going to try to sleep with you."

Marius looked confused. "But we sleep together every night," he said slowly. "We only have one bed."

"Marius, you know what I mean!"

"No…"

Frustrated, Courfeyrac again leaned in to Marius and said in his ear, "Marius, come on, please be reasonable. You keep saying that I'll never pass myself off as a woman. Well, of course I'll never pass myself off as a woman if you don't treat me like one! So just put your arm around my waist, and be a gentleman, why don't you? It's just for this one night! And after this one night, I promise, you'll never have to touch another man ever again. Please, Marius? For me?"

Marius looked at him for a moment, and then finally gave in. "Never again," he muttered, putting a slender arm around Courfeyrac's waist.

Courfeyrac grinned maniacally, revealing that he had apparently applied rouge to his teeth in addition to his lips. "What a friend!" he exclaimed. "I love you, Marius!"

"Please, no…"

"Oh, the line's moving!" Courfeyrac cut him off again. "We're almost to the door. Now, when he asks for our names, you just tell him yours, and let me answer for myself, you understand?"

"Yes," said Marius hesitantly.

"Good."

Within moments, the strange couple was standing at the door to the grand ballroom in front of a very tall and thin elderly man with long silver hair and piercing blue eyes. Without giving a second glance at the two men, he intoned, "Names?"

"Marius Pontmercy," Marius answered promptly.

The butler looked down at the long list in front of him. "You're on the list, sir," he droned. "And for you, miss?"

"Marie de Courfeyrac," Courfeyrac answered in an absurdly high falsetto. He curtsied clumsily.

The butler again scanned the list. "You are also on the list," he told Courfeyrac. He moved towards the door.

"Thank you," Courfeyrac replied, again in his falsetto voice. He looked at Marius expectantly. Miserably, Marius offered him his arm. Beaming, Courfeyrac took it with a flourish. They followed the butler into the ballroom.

"Marius Pontmercy and Marie de Courfeyrac," the butler announced in a loud, nasal voice, while gesturing for the two men to enter the room.

Marius almost passed out when he saw the scores of elaborately dressed, happy people all dancing, laughing and eating together, whereas Courfeyrac could only exclaim, "Shit! I forgot my costume!"