Thanks for the reviews!
So this is a romance, but I'm trying not to make it terribly fluffy. So if it gets too much so, let me know. Also let me know if I'm moving the storyline too fast. I'm trying to keep it plausible. Thanks!
A few weeks passed, and Eponine proved to be a smart girl who rarely had to be told anything twice. After the first day, she was never late again, and always came with a clean face, though Feuilly hadn't had the heart to scold her for bathing in the fountain.
Eponine had thought when she made this bargain that she would quickly grow bored of hanging around a painter on a street corner. But she soon found that watching Feuilly paint was fascinating. She would listen to the rich Mademoiselles and Monsieurs describe what they wanted, and the pair made a game of her guessing to see what he would paint first.
"The eyes," Eponine guessed once, at the commission of a portrait. Feuilly grinned.
"How did you know that?"
"You always paint the eyes first. An' you usually spend the most time on 'em," she replied with a coy smile.
"Do you know why that is?" he asked. She pursed her lips in thought and bit a fingernail in concentration. Suddenly, her face lit up and she smiled brightly. If you didn't look at her teeth, the effect was actually quite pretty.
"You always say that the eyes are the windows to the soul!" Eponine said triumphantly.
"It's true," Feuilly replied, turning to his fan and dipping a brush in blue paint. The person sitting for the portrait really had grayish eyes, but she had insisted that they were blue. Eponine squatted on the cobblestones and watched with her usual fascination, taking and rinsing his brushes as quickly as he used them.
He gave her the money she had earned that day, and began packing his things. She lingered, looking unusually thoughtful. He found a penny on the stones and tossed to her.
"Penny for your thoughts, 'Ponine?" he asked. She looked confused.
"It's an expression," Feuilly explained, "but you can keep the penny. I was just wondering what's on your mind. You usually just scurry off when we're finished."
"Oh…I usually go and look for Monsieur Marius, but 'e's out of town for a day or so. I was thinking two things."
"Do tell," he said, finding that he was quite interested to see what she had to say.
"Well," Eponine said thoughtfully, twisting a lock of hair, "the first is that I've saved 'nough money to buy a dress. A proper one, like a lady would wear. So I can start 'elping you find more customers. I've been workin' late to make me father's quota, see. So I can keep all the money I earn proper, workin' with you. An' me second thought is…I was thinkin' about what you always say about eyes."
"That they're the windows to the soul?"
"Yes. An'…I was wonderin' what people see in mine," she explained, "If they see more than just a dirty beggar girl who wants to steal their money."
"That's an interesting question. I can't give you the thoughts of others, but would you like to know what I see?" Feuilly asked, packing away the last of his things. Eponine looked at him, and nodded. He looked into her big brown eyes, although he had done it many times before.
"I see a girl who is intelligent, and shouldn't have to steal for a living. One who deserves a life of luxury with the man she loves, not a life of fear and pain at the hands of her father." She was looking back into his eyes now, their gazes locked. He continued,
"I see a girl with endless potential, who could be anything she wanted if she tried a little. I see sadness and pain, but I also see hope. Hope that someday she can become the woman that she deserves to be. And I see a girl who I want to help become that woman."
"A woman who is married to the man she loves?" Eponine asked, brightening visibly, "You will really help me convince Monsieur Marius to fall in love with me? I know I can do it!"
"Of course," Feuilly replied shortly, not sure why the turn in conversation suddenly annoyed him. Eponine bounced on her heels.
"I'm going to get a fine dress for meself tomorrow! Green, I think," she rambled excitedly, "yes, green is my favorite color. I'll have to hide it from me father, though," she mused, almost to herself. Feuilly sighed and slung the heavy bag of his painting supplies over his shoulder.
"I look forward to seeing your new garment tomorrow, Eponine," he said, a little coldly. He turned and set off toward home briskly, leaving the smitten girl to bask in the excitement of the prospect of a new gown.