In Which Eponine Suffers and Enjolras Triumphs
Eponine waited quietly.
She lay hidden in a corner, sheltered by both the little wilderness of bushes that surrounded her and the empty blackness of night. There were no stars to add light to the sky; the moon shone softly on her own.
Hugging her knees till her arms ached from the strain and staring mournfully at the moon as if pleading for the arrival of the brilliant sun, Eponine wondered if Marius had entered the garden yet. She shivered and her thin frame shook slightly—it was a cold night, but that was nothing new to the Thenardier child. There were few things unknown to her.
Suddenly a sound, melodious and soft, shattered the silence. Bending her head intently, she heard Marius' voice singing tenderly:
"A heart full of love…"
So Marius had found his beloved ghost at last. Another voice, hauntingly beautiful and high, began to sing also, soft and sweet, and it did seem as if this love duet was the result of an overflow of their hearts.
Eponine's eyes glistened with tears, but she wiped them away quickly with her dirty sleeve; her arms unwrapped themselves and she placed her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the beautiful sound. But she could not; the voices rose higher and higher, and yet ever so softly.
So she stood up, walking round the gate, and, in attempt to overcome the sound, she began to sing quietly, focusing on her own words instead. Her feelings overwhelmed her and, still hearing those happy voices, she poured out her heart in song.
And then she huddled back into her little corner and waited.
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Enjolras had a difficult time keeping up with a very anxious little Henri. The child's short legs walked twice as fast as his own, much to the older man's astonishment!
"Calm down, Henri," he said gently, "We will find your friend."
Henri's quick pace slackened until he was finallly motionless, and, with his large worried eyes raised to the student's, he answered softly, "She is more than my friend, monsieur. She is nearly like my own sister. I can't bear to lose her, once I've found someone who really loves me."
By this it was finally clear to Enjolras what the troublesome Eponine meant to the child, but impatience that was perhaps stirred by his own care for Henri made him ask, "Then why did she leave you?"
It was not as impertinent a question as it seemed, for despite the impatient tone in which it was asked, it was obvious that the older man was confused. Henri knew what Enjolras was asking. "She does care for me too, monsieur," was the quiet, assured reply.
"But how do you know? How does that explain her abandonment of you?"
"She did not abandon me, sir," said the child quickly, almost angrily, but, after a few minutes of silence, he continued thoughtfully, "One somehow knows when someone needs him. I don't know how, but I'm sure that Eponine needs me. You don't know what it's like, monsieur, to love someone who won't love you back. You and your glorious revolution are lovers (here Enjolras gave a start), but Eponine is alone. But despite all that, she still does all she can for him."
"Is that what you're doing?" asked Enjolras quietly.
"Yes. Eponine did care for me, like a mother, but she forgot about me for a while. I won't remind her of it—it's because of her that I'm alive—"
"What do you mean?"
Enjolras's hand had gripped at the child's arm, and Henri looked up to see Enjolras's blue eyes looking intensely at him. "I mean that she found me one winter night and took me in when I could have starved," he answered, returning the look steadily. "And I mean that Eponine's love for me gave back meaning to my life, if you know what I mean, when my soul was dead."
Enjolras's grip did not loosen. He stared at Henri, understanding creeping slowly into his eyes.
"Before I met Eponine, I was unhappy. No one cared about me, monsieur, but now someone does."
"Eponine is not the only one who cares for you, Henri," said the other quietly. "I do too, and if you love Eponine, I love Eponine, and I'm going to help you find her. Come on!" And thus saying, he only tightened his hold on Henri's wrist and they both ran swiftly to the Rue Plumet.
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Eponine began to grow uneasy. She felt something pressing upon her, as if trying to remind her of something. She pondered for a while, tilting her head thoughtfully. A child… wonderful eyes… Henri! She'd forgotten all about him! She had left him all alone! What if he was hungry? Or lost?
Eponine leapt out of her hiding place and ran quickly towards the street, but before she could say a word a black shadow loomed in front of her and something covered her mouth. She struggled for a while, but stopped in astonishment as the face was revealed under the moonlight.
"'Parnasse!"
The man gave a menacing smile and loosed his hold on her.
"'Parnasse, what are you doing here?"
Montparnasse, with his beautiful, alarming smile and innocent eyes, replied pleasantly, "Oh, we're going to do this house in. You remember that man," he continued, stooping down to meet her eyes steadily, "who bumped into your father the other day? The one with a mark on his chest? Well, he lives here, and we might get ourselves a fortune!" His grin widened as he thought of that 'fortune', and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
Eponine returned his taunting stare with cool indifference, but her heart was pounding so furiously in her ears that she wondered that her companion did not hear it.
"Well!" said the other with a grunt, "Here's your father now, with the rest of the lot!" His long white hands slid into expensive trousers and he stalked lazily towards the arrived group.
"What am I to do? The sooner I'm through with this, the sooner I'll see Henri again. But what can I do?" wondered Eponine impatiently, the beating so similar to drums growing louder and louder. Finally she could take the pounding no longer and, gathering her courage together, she stepped bravely into the light.