--------Epilogue-------
The first five years of Feuilly and Eponine's marriage had been a struggle, especially after the birth of their first child, Gabriel Jean, in 1835. However, one of Feuilly's memorial paintings of the barricade done on its fifth anniversary had been "discovered" by some rich Parisian, and he had become a sort of celebrity among the high class in Paris. The commissions had begun to come in, slowly at first, but now so fast that he had to put some on hold and even turn a few down.
Feuilly and Eponine had their second son, Laurent Severin, in 1840, and she was able to quit her job to stay home with the children. Gabriel was a quiet young thing who inherited his father's dark hair and blue eyes. He was already showing a talent for painting, and Eponine had taught him his letters. He was named for the archangel Gabriel, and Jean Prouvaire, the first of their friends to die at the barricade.
Feuilly had named Louis after his friends Laurent Courfeyrac and Severin Combeferre. Eponine had never known their first names. He had that odd shade of auburn hair and brown eyes. He looked just like his mother, and was bright-eyed and spunky from an early age.
Muchietta had married the same year Laurent was born, to her always-sickly medical student. He was now a doctor, and they had four children, two boys who were always checking their tongues in the mirror, and two girls who already knew how to bat their eyelashes at the passing boys.
Azelma had been the last to marry, having been too young to even be courted the year of the Revolution. She had married ten years after, in 1842, to the rich young man who was the elder brother of the children she cared for. They had three little girls who always kept their parents on their toes.
It was Christmas 1850, nearly twenty years after what was now called the Revolution of 1832. Eponine sat on the small sofa in the big house she and Feuilly now lived in, holding Azelma's youngest, Josephine. Feuilly, never far from his wife's side, sat by her, letting the baby grasp at his fingers.
Azelma's other two girls, Clarice and Marcelle, were playing with their new dolls on the rug by the fireplace. Laurent was trying to convince them to go outside and play in the snow.
Gabriel was sitting at his mother's feet, with a sheet of paper and a pen, his brow furrowed in thought. Eponine touched him lightly on the shoulder.
"What are you working so hard on, son?" she asked.
"A poem," he replied, "a Christmas poem for a girl that I met yesterday at the party at the Pontmercy's."
Although Feuilly and Eponine had long debated whether they should let him go to the fashionable Christmas party for young people that the Pontmercys threw every year, they had decided to forgive and forget. And Gabriel had wanted to go so badly.
"Mama, Mama!" Laurent cried, bounding up to Eponine.
"What is it?"
"Clarice and Marcelle said they'd play in the snow with me! Can we, Mama? Please?"
Eponine looked at Feuilly, and he nodded.
"All right. Put on your warm clothes and don't be out too long!" she said. The three cousins took off toward the door.
Baby Josephine began to fuss, and Azelma took her into another room to nurse. Her husband, who was nearly as protective of her as Feuilly of Eponine, followed her. Eponine turned her attention back to her son.
"So, is she pretty?"
"Oh, she's beautiful, Mama! She has long dark hair, and the biggest brown eyes you've ever seen. She's soft spoken, and has beautiful pale skin."
"Well, did you ask if you could call on her?" Feuilly only meant to tease Gabriel.
"Yes! And she said I could!" Gabriel cried happily. Feuilly choked on the tea he was drinking.
"I don't…you're not quite old enough…" he sputtered. Eponine laid a finger gently across his lips, laughing softly.
"Would you like the sleigh? I'm sure she would love to go sleighing with you, and our poor horse hasn't gotten out in so long. You haven't been sleighing yet this season, Gabriel."
"Oh, Mama, that would be wonderful!" Gabriel said, "I'm to call on her the day after tomorrow."
"Does she live far?"
"Oh, no. You've been to the Pontmercy's, Mama. You know where that is!"
It was Eponine's turn to choke on her tea.
"The…Pontmercy's?" she managed.
"Yes! Their daughter, Veroniqe. You've met her."
"Veronique is a very sweet girl," Feuilly spoke up, "I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time with her."
"Oh, I hope so! I'm going to go finish my poem to her now!" he grabbed his paper and pen and raced up the stairs. Eponine looked at her husband, not knowing whether to be annoyed or amused. Feuilly laughed at the expression on her face and embraced her, kissing her softly and resting his chin on top of her hair.
"I suppose we find love in the oddest places," she said finally. He laughed,
"And if Gabriel Jean is anything like our Jehan, he'll be writing a poem for a new girl every week."
Eponine laughed,
"Oh, I'd forgotten that! I wonder what else I've forgotten. About them," she said, becoming somber for a moment.
"What matters is that you remember that they fought for what they believed in," Feuilly replied, "They stood up for France, because they loved her. Never forget that about them, Eponine. Remember them as they were in the Café Musain, or remember them as they were on the barricade, it doesn't matter. But remember what they fought for."
"Yes," she replied softly, brushing a tear from her cheek. The clock chimed six, startling them both.
"Oh, dear, it's time for Christmas dinner!" Eponine said, stopping to give Feuilly a kiss before running to the door to call in the three children, and upstairs to fetch Gabriel. Azelma and her husband brought the baby out, and the family gathered around the table.
Feuilly sat and smiled, watching his two handsome sons tousle each other's hair, and his wife, her cheeks pink with heat, bustle around the kitchen. Her cooking had improved immensely since she had burnt his dinner so long ago.
Later that night, after everyone had left and the children were in bed, Eponine and Feuilly sat awake on the sofa. He held her close and they talked softly as the hour grew later.
"I think we'd best get to sleep, 'Ponine," he said finally, as Eponine attempted to dislocate her jaw with a big yawn. She nodded, and slipped her hand into his as they walked to the bedroom. He kissed her goodnight as they slipped into bed, falling asleep just the same as they had on their wedding night.
Thanks again for all the reviews! I'm so glad you liked the story!
M.