Oh dear, I see I've confused a few readers. Please forgive the vagueness of my writing! Many of you have mistaken my Henri for Enjolras, when really he's a completely different character who's only fifteen years of age! I really am sorry for confusing you! Please forgive a distracted writer… Oh, and I have read the book and watched the musical, but this story will not be entirely based on the book alone. Thanks and keep reviewing! :D
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In Which Henri Meets Marius, Under Rather Unusual Circumstances
The reader will perhaps have discerned this Henri as the boy at the beginning of the story. This child now shivered and blinked his eyes as they tried with some difficulty to focus on the images in front of him. His surroundings seemed to confuse him; why was he wrapped in a blanket? How had he come to this unfamiliar place? It was a while before he could recall what had happened to him and how he had come upon a small building with a girl who had been gentle and let him inside.
There she is now, he thought, observing with great curiosity the sleeping girl in front of him. She was dressed in but a chemise and skirt, but this apparel was not uncommon for the girls in the slums. Fatigue was drawn upon the very outline of the girl, but a peacefulness was also present; had she been awake, Henri would have thought her very ugly—but now, as she sat, head drooping and face free of any expression save that of tranquility, Henri watched her with a sort of fascination, for her very presence radiated with a warmth and gentleness unknown to the boy.
Suddenly she stirred and opened her eyes, falling almost immediately upon his. He started and affected to sleep, but she had seen him, and with a small smile barely observed by her companion, she said:
"Ah! You are awake and you must be hungry!"
At her words, Henri became painfully aware of the pangs threatening his stomach.
"But I have nothing to eat," she continued, an expression of disappointment taking the place of pleasure. "Wait! I shall go out and get something! You must wait here!"
"Please, mademoiselle—"
"Eponine, if you please. I'm no lady," was the interruption.
"Eponine, then, there really is no need to feed another mouth besides your own. I only asked for shelter; I will go now." He stood up and made as if to leave, but her hand found its way quickly to his arm.
"Wait!"
"I am very grateful, but there is nothing I have to give except my word. I promise I'll return and pay my debt when I am able."
"That is not what I mean!" protested the girl. "Where will you go? Have you any parents?"
The impatience that was evident in Henri's countenance changed abruptly, and he stared at her with a mournful, longing air that pierced her heart of iron. "No," said he finally.
"Then where will you go?" asked Eponine again.
"Not sure, mademoiselle, but—"
"Eponine."
"But I will find a way to pay my debt, as I have said before."
"I do not want money." With a simple sentence, Eponine had unknowingly cast aside a barricade between the two, and now Henri looked bewildered.
"Then what is it you want?" he asked with an air of perplexity.
"I ask for nothing save the assurance of your safety," replied the girl simply.
The boy waited a moment before asking for a reason.
It was Eponine's turn to remain silent and ponder. "I don't know," she said, and a feeling of sudden frustration took its toll. "Perhaps I don't want your death on my hands!"
"No," answered Henri thoughtfully, "I don't think that is why."
"Never you mind then!" began Eponine angrily.
"What do you want of me?"
She thought for a moment.
"Well?"
"I want to help you."
This time the lad did not ask why. He simply nodded.
…
The sun was glancing shyly from its hideaway when two young, cheerful persons could be observed walking in the city. One was a young woman, probably eighteen, smiling and wearing a dirty brown cap and patched long coat. She was laughing at something the younger boy was saying; the child was as skinny as his companion, and he smiled with a pleased expression on his gaunt face as he watched the woman's reaction.
The pair reached the market, where the smell of fish and meat penetrated the air and people cried out, "Bread! Bread for sale!" and other such food.
"Well?" asked the woman, whom we of course know as Eponine.
"Well what?"
"What would you like to eat?"
The boy watched her thoughtfully. "Perhaps the least expensive thing here?" he began questioningly.
Eponine laughed. "Don't trouble yourself, Henri! I've enough here for two meals!"
Henri returned the smile; his face glowed with pleasure at the thought of a full meal and Eponine wouldn't have traded that smile for anything in the world!
They walked slowly away from the market with satisfied stomachs.
A young man was trudging quietly through the lane when suddenly he recognized a familiar face and cried:
"Ponine!"
She turned, startled. Henri observed the flush of pleasure that sprung gaily into her cheeks as her dark eyes discerned the newcomer; she replied, "It is you, Monsieur Marius! I have been wondering where you've been!"
He walked quickly to her side, taking no heed of the young boy beside her. "I have a favor to ask of you, 'Ponine. Will you help me?"
"I will do it!" said she, eagerly as Henri noticed.
"Did you see that young girl who was walking with her father yesterday? The father was rather old, and his head was white as snow."
A shadow darkened her cheerful face, contrasting sharply against the young man's excited features. "You mean the lady, monsieur?"
"Yes! She was beautiful, was she not? Come, will you find her house for me? I am begging you, 'Ponine!"
"What will you give her for it?" asked Henri suddenly, his steady eyes watching the trembling Eponine carefully.
"Anything!" cried Marius, seeming not to notice from whence the words had come.
"I will find her," answered Eponine faintly, yet her courage impressed the thin, young observer.
"God bless you, Eponine! You know your way about here better than anyone I know!" With a joyful shake of her hand he was gone, entering once more into his world of transported ecstasy.
"Will you do it?" Henri asked quietly once he was out of sight.
"What? Oh, yes, I suppose I must. Come, Henri. Let's go back home."