And I do not own anyone here. They all belong to Victor Hugo. This is an attempt to try to redeem our favorite dolt of a lawyer.
Out of the Cloaca
All the time they were seated in the fiacre, Marius was quiet.
Cosette however, was ecstatic. "Imagine what he'll do when he sees us! He'll be so happy, won't he, Marius?"
"I suppose so, Cosette. I can only hope...oh Dieu, I've been such a fool, cherie, for not knowing, or maybe just pretending not to know..." Marius said. His mind was torn between happiness and guilt.
"What should I do? Fall at his feet and beg for forgiveness? Will he want me as a son, knowing that I've misjudged him so badly?" he wondered.
Cosette put a hand on his arm. "Marius, you're shaking."
He sighed. "I'm a wretch, Cosette. After all that your father did, bringing so much to a town...saving Javert, then me...and what did I do? Denied him of what men live by, of hope and of care, and as good as turned him out of our house!"
Cosette gave him a curious look. "But you did not know! And he never told me, or anyone...Papa was always like that."
"After that, I deserve to have been left behind in that cloaca," Marius said.
Cosette kissed his cheek. "I forgive you, Marius. And he will too, just for my sake. But even then..."
The fiacre came to a stop. "We're at the Rue del Homme'Arme," the driver said to the couple.
Marius stepped out of the carriage first then offered his arm to Cosette. "Come now, we must hurry!" he said before they half-walked, half-ran into the house of a man they'd almost been too late to greet.