I have to introduce two new characters here, who I own. Victor Hugo never said at what age Feuilly lost his parents. So I write them in here..

Someplace Above Unease

Despite the slight cloud of foreboding in her mind, Fantine was still ecstatic when she left the factory at the end of the day.

"We'll find some place soon enough to stay, Cosette," the young woman said eagerly as she strolled with her daughter. The twilight was descending fast, and lamps were being lit in windows already.

"Where, Maman?" Cosette asked, clutching Fantine's hand tightly.

"I'm not sure yet," Fantine said quietly, willing herself not to think of the twenty-three francs she had with her. Twenty was all she had saved after her journey, and three was from her day's work.

The streets were better lit these days than they had been when Fantine was a little girl. Gradually, she felt her fear dissipate as she and Cosette wandered the neighborhood, looking for a friendly face or at least an open door. Twenty attempts at inquiries had not been particularly fruitful. Now and then, Fantine would hear the voice of some long-lost acquaintance, and she would be forced to hide her face.

At long last, mother and daughter arrived in the southern side of the city. This place was full of small, tumble-down houses hastily built by families of modest means. Here, Fantine felt she could stand straighter. Cosette, being aware of the change in her mother's posture, soon began to run a few steps ahead of Fantine.

"Cosette, come back! It's getting dark!" Fantine called after some time.

The little girl merely giggled. "Maman, look!" she grinned, pointing to a window where a colored glass ornament was strung, casting the light into diamonds and bursts of red and blue.

Fantine smiled at this quaint sight. "That's lovely, but we still have to look for a place to stay, Cosette." An idea suddenly flashed into her mind and she boldly went to knock on the door.

A tall man opened the door. "Good evening, mademoiselle," he said, wiping his grimy hands on his trousers.

Fantine swallowed hard. "Monsieur, my little girl and I need a place to stay. I am willing to pay, Monsieur," she said quickly.

The man glanced behind him. "Bernadette!" he shouted.

A spindly woman wearing a neat red dress and a clean apron soon made her appearance. "What is it, Jerome?"

"A girl here wants some lodging," Jerome replied. "She has a child with her."

"Oh!" Bernadette said. "Well, I was merely suggesting last week that we take a boarder."

"Well we have one now," Jerome replied, opening the door wider to admit Fantine and Cosette into the front room.

"You have a name, I suppose?" Bernadette asked Fantine kindly.

"You can call me Fantine."

"And the little girl?" Bernadette practically cooed.

"Her name is Cosette."

"Ah, that is lovely," Bernadette said. "Such a sweet child!" she added, lightly pinching Cosette's rosy cheek.

Cosette squirmed and hid behind her mother's skirt while Jerome laughed. "She's a shy one, eh? Hopefully she's not as mischievous as my son---Bernadette, where has Gilles gotten off to?" Jerome asked.

"He went out to play and he hasn't come back yet," Bernadette said, wringing her hands.

Jerome rolled his eyes. "Wait till that rascal gets home," he muttered. He glanced at Fantine's carpet bag. "Your room is upstairs. There are only two rooms upstairs anyway, and well, we do well with one, so you can have the other."

"Thank you, Monsieur---" Fantine said, wondering how to address the landlord.

"Enough with the 'Monsieur'. 'Feuilly' will do, but the neighbors of course call me 'Jerome', and my wife 'Bernadette'." Jerome said. "I'm a craftsman, as you can see," he said, pointing to the glass window.

Bernadette led Fantine and Cosette up the rickety stairs to a narrow passage with two doors. The housewife opened the door on the right to reveal a small room with a rickety bedstead bearing a clean mattress. The only other piece of furniture was a small chest of drawers. "It's not much, but will it do?" she asked Fantine.

"Oh very well, Madame Feuilly, I mean, Bernadette," Fantine said happily.

"I'll leave you the candle and I'll fetch the spare coverlet," Bernadette said before shutting the door.

Fantine lost no time in unpacking. Most of the limited drawer space was soon filled with Cosette's dresses. Fantine had just enough room to put away her own clothing, leaving almost everything else in her carpetbag.

Cosette had managed to climb up on the bed and she bounced on it playfully. Fantine laughed and smoothed down Cosette's hair. "Don't do that, petite. You mustn't ruin the bed," she scolded lightly.

"No!" Cosette said defiantly.

"Cosette—" Fantine began more firmly before the door opened again.

"Ah, comfortable already, I see?" Bernadette said gaily. She handed Fantine a heavy sheet. "It may seem a bit much, but as you can see, it's not easy to have a fire in this house."

"Still, it will do nicely," Fantine said.

Bernadette smiled wearily. "Gilles, come up here now!" she called to someone in the hallway.

A scruffy boy of about thirteen peered into the room. His wiry hair was caked with dirt and his clothes were spattered with paint. "Good evening, Madame," he said to Fantine.

Bernadette sighed and crossed her arms. "Fantine, this is my son Gilles. Gilles, meet Fantine, our new lodger, and her daughter Cosette. I expect you to be very polite to both of them."

Gilles stood up straight. "Very well then, Maman."

"You've been painting again, I see." Bernadette reprimanded. "I know I can't stop you, but do be careful, Gilles. I can't afford to send you to school, or get a new shirt."

Gilles threw up his hands. "Maman, I don't need to go to school if I want to paint. And no shop will take me, not now."

"Your father and I don't want you to stay…like this!" Bernadette retorted.

Fantine cleared her throat. "Bernadette…" she whispered, moving to close the door.

The housewife colored on realizing that she and her son had been arguing in front of the newcomers. "I'm sorry," she said. "Fantine, were you and Cosette planning on looking someplace for dinner?"

"Well---"

"You can forget those plans," Bernadette grinned. "We may not be rich, but we can keep a good table. I'll call you when I have dinner ready," she said before leading her son off down the stairs.