Part Two: The Play

Scene Two

I woke up the next morning to the chilling cry of a terrified, petrified, horrified young man. The fact that I live alone in my little apartment may frighten the reader—could it be that ghosts had invaded the privacy of my room?—but no, be assured that the cry came from my very throat.

Why? Why was I terrified, petrified, horrified?

Because, my dear reader, as I have mentioned before, I live alone in my little apartment. I have lived by myself for years, since the day I set out fresh from a mother's care! My father taught me how to be independent, and I have found a use for it. However, this is no reason to use my powerful lungs. (Did I mention how wonderful my voice is? Indeed, many have deemed it 'angelic'.) So why did I let out a chilling cry the next morning? We come to the point at last.

The moment I opened my eyes, I saw in front of me a young man.

Now, it must be explained to the reader that I sleep on my stomach. It must also be declared that most of the time I find myself slipping off the bed in the morning. This explains why I ice my forehead so frequently as I sit listening in the Café Musain. Thus, when I opened my eyes that morning, my head was in the perfect position to see, the moment my eyelids struggled to lift, a young man lying down on the floor next to my mattress.

At this point, I screamed and fell out of my bed.

The young man (it was really Enjolras, but in my terror, I did not recognize him) immediately shot off the floor, bumping his head on my side table in the process.

I screamed out once more, but this time it was a threat. I leapt to my feet, grabbed my pillow—there was really nothing else within my reach—and began punching the air with my new weapon.

"Wait—" the intruder began.

I aimed wonderfully and stuffed his mouth with feathers.

He spit them out, crying, "Stop!"

"Get-out-of-my-room!" I screamed, thrashing my pillow about between words. Poor Enjolras. Any stranger would have thought me a madman, with my red face, puffing cheeks, and perilous pillow.

"Courfeyrac, it's me!" cried the intruder, "It's me, Marius!"

My cheeks, already ruddy from excitement, turned the bright color of cherries as I looked, recognized, and dropped my weapon. "Ah," said I, clearing my throat, "So it is! So sorry, dear fellow! You almost gave me a heart attack there!" Then, eager to change the subject, I pointed out, "Enjolras, you know. You should remember to call yourself that for now."

With a start, Enjolras rushed to my little mirror and moaned. "Ohh! It wasn't a dream then!"

"No," I said matter-of-factly, "It can't be. Even if it wasn't real, it wouldn't be a dream. At least, for you it would be a nightmare, really. But 'dream' works well enough for me. Anyway, stop moaning at that mirror and explain to me what you're doing in my apartment!"

"Really, Monsieur, there's no need to get angry! I was just on my way to my little room, the one you gave me, but the door was locked. I knocked but Enjol—I mean, Marius was there and he laughed at me and wouldn't let me in. It really was awful of him, and—"

At this point I sighed and interrupted, "He was doing the right thing, you know. If Combeferre or some other friend knocked on Monsieur Pontmercy's door and found a sleepy Enjolras, that would be very strange indeed. It would be even worse if, being sleepy, you answered in the name of Marius! That would be called bonkers, you know."

Enjolras stared at me crossly and rubbed his forehead. "Well, alright! Anyway, I didn't know the way to Enjol—I mean, my apartment, so I went to yours."

"Enough explaining," said I, jumping up, "We've got to get you to the others. Enjolras, late? Absolutely unheard of! Now, I'm going to go and pick up some fresh clothes. You can get yourself ready. Oh, and bring some ice, will you? I bumped my head quite hard when I fell."

We parted ways for a while, planning to meet at the Café Musain. When I arrived, everyone was already there. A large crowd filled the outside of the café, sometimes buzzing loudly and sometimes hushing into dead silence.

"Don't you understand?" someone was saying. "Who will help them, if not us? Who will be their voice, if not us? Who will tell the King that the majority of his subjects starve on the streets, if not us? The people need rights! They need voices! But who will be their voice when they cannot speak? We will give them their voices! We will give them their rights! We, the Friends of the ABC, must show the King that justice is needed, justice and equality and freedom for all! Who…"

I listened, startled. I knew that voice. Who wouldn't? It belonged to the man who was quiet, uncertain, and hopelessly in love. But now it sounded so different! Now it was the cry of passion, certainty, and even pride!

I pushed my way through the crowd and stopped, my jaw hanging open two inches wide. There, in front of me, was Marius, standing on a table that was carried outside and crying out, "Revolution!" with his stirring words.

(Have I not always told the reader how passion is so important in speech? Here stands Marius, the bashful young man, now speaking to a crowd and stirring their hearts!)

I did not think. I simply walked straight up to the table, hauled Marius down, and hissed, "Don't attract attention to yourself! Let Enjolras do the talking!"

"Oh, good morning, Courfeyrac," said Marius, acknowledging my presence with a slight nod. "I'm in the middle of a speech at the moment, Monsieur."

"Stop that! Marius!" I cried, "Let's go inside, shall we? Hmm?" And I grabbed him by the ear and hauled him inside, shutting the door with a loud bang!

We were greeted with bright, expectant faces.

"Late, Enjolras! Even Marius was here already! Marius, the lover! Marius the slow and dreamy!" cried Grantaire, stumbling forward, "Need I say more?" He sank to the ground in a fit of hysterics.

"How insulting!" raged Enjolras. "You know," said he emphatically, "I've only been late once in my life, and that was because, unlike the rest of you fools, I have a woman who actually cares about—"

"Aahh!" I butt in nervously, "Ah, I think I saw a… a monstrous—it was very large!"

Everyone turned to me, and Enjolras' little error was forgotten as they stared at me with large, unblinking eyes. I was not at all relieved.

"A what?" said Joly, cocking his head.

"Ahem, eh, you know. Those, those little creatures, the, erm, the grey ones that…" My brain was not functioning properly at the moment. I am hopeless, aren't I? "They eat orange pieces, nibbles, really… A… a—"

"A rat?" offered Marius in a bored voice. "Shall we get on with business?"

Combeferre stepped forward, "Ah yes! Enjolras, have you forgotten?"

"Ah, erm, forgotten?" Enjolras fidgeted, playing with his fingers.

"Your speech? You did bring your papers, didn't you? Why, you worked so hard on that only a few nights ago!" He looked positively shocked.

Marius smirked. "Oh, I brought them," said he artfully. "Here they are, Enjolras. You must give us the speech!"

I began protesting immediately, knowing something was terribly wrong, but Enjolras probably got it into his thick skull that this was his chance to prove his worth to me, to show me that the real Enjolras was not really gifted. After all, how hard could giving a speech be?

The Friends gathered around him—I stood at the back, moaning softly—and I could see Marius way in front, chuckling quietly. There was something very ominous in his laugh, and in his eyes sparked revenge. Revenge? For what? Perhaps, and, dear reader, I only say perhaps, it was retribution for a kiss.

Enjolras, smoothing out the papers in front of him, eyed the crowd of familiar faces nervously. He cleared his throat and shifted his attention to the papers. Suddenly his eyes bulged—yes! They bulged like a gasping fish out of water and his face turned green and he looked exactly like Marius did the other day when he was about to give Cosette a fairwell 'token of love'.

Marius' smile was widening slowly.

Enjolras threw him a look so very full of wrath, but I believe I saw Marius shrug. "Ahem," began Enjolras, "So, the people. Yes! The people! We are, erm, fighting for the lives of the people! Yes, and we all know why…"

I will not give you the rest of the speech. You must forgive me, but I cannot bear to relate the details. I will give you an account of what followed.

Everyone but Enjolras, Marius, and I were left in the room. Enjolras sat in a chair, miserable. Besides the bump on his forehead that he had gotten earlier this morning, there were several other bruises on his arms and cheek. He had gotten into a fistfight with Marius earlier, you see.

"Oh, you've ruined me!" moaned Enjolras.

But I was giving Marius a lecture: "What have you done! You have just ruined your own reputation! It may take you months, even years, to gain back what honor you have left! Just think! People will mock you. Even worse, they might find it hard to give their hands into a man who doesn't know what he's doing!"

"Oh, stop it!" scoffed Marius. "Do you think one silly speech will sway them from the solid trust they have in me? Besides, he,"—jutting a finger towards Enjolras—"should suffer as I have suffered."

"You! You!" Enjolras stood up, his face thunder and rain. "You kissed my beloved!" he shrieked. "How is that torture!? But humiliation! Embarrasment! Oh, it gives me pleasure to think that this body will forever feel this shame! Not me! NO, when I'm back to my normal self, YOU will be the one humiliated!"

"Monsieur, it is not that bad," said Marius coldly. "You exaggerate with your drama."

I did not bother to hear the rest of the argument. Instead, because of curiosity—curiousity, dear reader, is what got me into this tangle in the first place—I tiptoed slowly towards the table where Enjolras had given his lecture, turned over the first page of the speech, and stole a glimpse.

What I saw made my hand fly to my mouth and my shoulders shake uncontrollably. There, in big letters, were these following words:

"THE KISS OF COSETTE IS A SWEET LITTLE THING,

I SIGH AS I WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE THIS SPRING!"

And I, dear reader, am an honorable man.

Hello again! Thank you for the reviews! I'm rather disappointed with this chapter—I'm sorry if it's a bit vague and not very funny. As for E/E, yes. I think I'll give it a go. You can expect some in the next chapter, but it might be odd because it's Enjolras inside Marius. Thanks! HOpe you enjoyed! :D