My Fair Eponine
Chapter 1 – Wretched
Strolling down a swarming Paris boulevard, Montparnasse pulled down the brim of his hat to shade his eyes. Apprehension always set in when traversing exposed, thus his constant need to conceal himself. He had yet to be seized by the police, but his frequent nighttime vices earned him the undesired watchfulness of the authority. Nevertheless, it was impossible to remain in the shadows when an ostentatious outfit was pleading to be showcased. The dapper young dandy could simply not survive without the looks of admiration and envy his garb received from pedestrians. As a cluster of bourgeois and students passed by, he raised his chin and inflated his chest, straightening his cravat and the blood-red rose in his buttonhole. "A picture of brilliance," he flattered himself. His rosy lips curved into a pompous smirk, revealing a set of dazzling white teeth. Feeling dreadfully satisfied with his appearance, Montparnasse took a seat on a convenient stone bench, forgetting his need to conceal and displaying himself for all to view – including a certain female urchin.
"Ah, 'Parnasse! There you are!"
At the unforgettably odd voice, Montparnasse raised his eyes from admiring the stylish cut of his coat to see Eponine scurrying towards him, tripping multiple times over her own bare feet. She only allowed a few more moments to elapse before she was seated at his side on the bench, replacing her tattered chemise on her shoulders. Montparnasse repositioned himself to face her, a smile gracing his handsome features. "Well, if it isn't my favorite street rat," he teased, his tone bearing good nature. Perhaps his elegant attire had raised his spirits uncharacteristically high. He glanced at her bony bare arms, which bore the dirt stains of weeks before. "Haven't eaten again I see." His witty smirk did not fade.
At that, Eponine's smile widened into a grin most people found horribly revolting, but Montparnasse had grown accustomed - perhaps even fond - of it. Her large brown eyes, though worn with misery, sprung to life. "Oh, quite the opposite! You'll be very proud of your 'Ponine! I picked a pocket of a fancy bourgeois today and found ten francs! Can you believe it? I certainly couldn't. I thought I was still in that dream from last night about dressing up old wrinkly men like dolls. Hah! Wouldn't that be somethin'? So I asked myself what to do with my wealth. Buy pearls perhaps! Oh, I saw pearls once, a long strand on a tight-laced high class woman! I'd be a lady, I would! Azelma would be so jealous! And Mama would be so proud! And Papa….oh! But then my stomach cried out for food, that darned thing. So I went to the bakery. The loaf I bought wasn't black! It tasted so pleasant! Though I hope it was edible…I've never had bread that wasn't black before. At least not in many years…"
Uncertain how to respond to the ramblings of the scatterbrained girl, Montparnasse merely chuckled and said, "My, you're becoming quite the pickpocket."
Eponine flashed another smile, beaming with satisfaction. Once a few moments of wide grinning had elapsed, she let her cheeks relax. It was then that Montparnasse's new suit caught her attention. "Never as skilled as you, 'Parnasse," she commented. "We are impoverished the same and look who has the finer clothes."
Montparnasse's grin turned smug. "Very true. I would definitely say my clothes are the finest in Paris! Which proves my theory once and for all, that crime does pay. Just look at that man over there." His tone was highly revolted as he pointed out a fat bourgeois strolling by with a newspaper tucked under his arm. "His coat must be at least a hundred years old! If sane people ever even wore such a nauseating style. And those dull clashing colors would make anyone stick a knife in their gut! Such is how working men dress. I am proud to be of a nobler bracket." At his conclusive sentence, his features morphed back into a haughty smile, revealing his stunningly pure teeth again. He turned his sights back to Eponine, who was attempting fruitlessly to match his impeccable smile with a grimy one. "As for you, little 'Ponine…" His fingers tugged at her threadbare chemise that was threatening to descend past modesty. "You just don't know where to shop."
Eponine heaved a slight sigh of frustration, her large eyes growing dim. Misery was visibly etched out on her face. "I don't know how you do it, but every time I try to swipe a garment from someone, they notice and kick me. Or call the police. But I always outrun them." Her voice slightly livened as she boasted about her fleeing capabilities, elevating her foot to show Montparnasse where the ability originated. The sight of the small bare feet, plagued with blisters and coated with dirt, impelled the dandy to hastily return his gaze to her face, the surprisingly cleaner of the two parts in question. "I remember one freezing day…" she continued. "It was so cold my nose was covered with a layer of ice! It was in janvier or février, though I never can distinguish between those frigid months. They're just as miserable. I saw a man in a cloak, and oh how warm the cloak looked! I was out in my usual garb and the snow was falling heavily! Papa wouldn't let me stay under our bridge because he sent me out to run errands. I usually don't mind a little shiver; it lets me know I'm still alive. But the quaking was too severe! Oh, how I yearned for the cloak…"
Her wistful abeyance allowed Montparnasse the time to interrupt. "How daft can you be?" he exclaimed, his glaring eyes sharp and daunting. "You don't swipe clothes while they're on the bearer! You either break into their house, steal their money to buy your own apparel, or…"
As his words disappeared, Eponine's eyes fixed on him with expectation and uncertainty, awaiting his continuation. However, he spoke no more, save through his eyes, which instructed her to lower her gaze to his hands. Complying, she saw his hand stealthily inch out of an inner coat pocket, producing the glistening blade of a knife that was shaded from pedestrians' eyes by his cloak. At the moment her eyes beheld the weapon, she knew the method he was recommending – one of his preferred techniques. As he fingered the blade, Eponine watched it shimmer, an unknown horror chilling her spine. While she did delight in harmless thievery, for it was her only means of survival, she could never grow accustomed to any crimes associated with murder. However, she would never permit Montparnasse knowledge of that fact, to avoid appearing pathetic. She reveled in bold boastings of intrepidity. Consequently she attempted a subject change. Her eyes switched their focus to the Paris scenery in front of her as she inhaled the polluted air. There was in fact a small ravine behind their bench which featured a sewer grating. "Ah, just smell that fresh air!" She inhaled again, this time adding exaggeration. "You couldn't find such air anywhere else!"
Curious as to what in the air delighted Eponine, Montparnasse inspired a large amount of air, just to be overcome with a coughing fit. The air was putrid. "I'll say," he managed to agree between coughs.
Eponine, whose head was again in the clouds, heard none of this. While Montparnasse smelled sewage and saw a teeming stone avenue, she inhaled the sweet fragrances of spring and beheld lush green fields. "It's such a nice day," she mumbled pensively. Suddenly she turned back to the dandy next to her, the boisterousness of her actions almost causing her to turn too far and fall. "Why don't we take a stroll, 'Parnasse?"
"Overly excessive public appearance is not healthy for folks like us," Montparnasse stated flatly, referring to their criminal records. "Why don't we find a nice dark alley and -"
"Please, 'Parnasse?" Eponine implored, gazing up at him with childish eyes, enormous and shining.
Montparnasse's eyelids fell closed in defeat, realizing he could never endure such an expression. Since their odd relationship of being simultaneously friends and lovers had been established, she used such a tactic to enforce her juvenile whims. While he endeavored to disregard and resist it, he typically furtively acquiesced, as to not appear entirely vanquished by a beseeching pair of eyes. The sooner he relented, the sooner the assault terminated. 'Ruthless assassin conquered by oddly adorable face.' How would the Patron-Minette respond to such headlines? Heaving a sigh, he growled, "Fine. Let's go." His eyes fluttered back open but he avoided her, rising from the bench and starting down the street.
Eponine was quick to follow, in ecstasies as she skipped through the throng of people. She loved the power she possessed, understanding quite well how she could wield such an infamous criminal.
After a few minutes of weaving through the crowd, Eponine and Montparnasse reached a clearing, allowing Eponine the opportunity of linking arms with her companion. Montparnasse's lips curved up as they walked in this manner, and his step grew resolute, proud to have a special girl on his arm. Eponine chatted idly with him, distracting him from the fact that her grungy rags were touching his elegant new suit.
Although the two were equally linked together, it appeared to any pedestrian that the ragged girl was directing their course. She led Montparnasse through many lively streets, claiming them exhilarating and making many references to her previous lifestyle in Montfermeil. As they traversed through a bustling marketplace, Montparnasse stealthily procured a rose from a flower vendor. Thus was how he would acquire his favorite accessory. Since his fine coat was already exhibiting a crimson rose, he desired an ornament for his hat. However, the moment they were back in open air, the gentleman noticed with great disdain the blunder he made. "White?" he hissed, examining the alabaster rose. "Revolting! This will surely clash with my hat! Here, 'Ponine! You take it!" He virtually forced the flower upon her with a harsh shove into her chest, causing the thorns to prick her.
Startled by the unexpected prickle, Eponine automatically accepted it, taking it in her hands and considering for a moment. Her face contorted into multiple expressions of contemplation before her eyes rested upon Montparnasse. "Thank you, 'Parnasse, but I could never wear white…"
Montparnasse's expression shifted from aggravated to insulted. "Since when have you given style a thought?" He gestured to the rags that adorned her. "Don't refuse it, it's a gift. I rarely give gifts." The repression of resentment dripped from his tone. Without allowing her another moment of objection, he pierced the shaft of the rose through her moth-eaten blouse, effortlessly creating a hole. Once the stem was through the fabric, he fastened it by twisting the tip of the stem, an action rather easily accomplished through the scanty cloth. "There." A faint smile appeared on his face, his malice seemingly waning.
With a slight cringe Eponine tried to disregard the cold and thorny sensation of the stem against her flesh. Although she felt incredibly unworthy of pure white, the color of innocence and virginity, she voiced not another protest. Admiring the beauty of the rose against the hideousness of her garment, she recalled a day when her chemise had been just as white as those petals. It was many years ago, just after her family went bankrupt. And before she had encountered Montparnasse. But now her blouse was a collage of browns, grays, and a repugnant yellowish off-white. Her lips forming a half-smile, she returned her gaze to the man beside her. "Thanks." An uncomfortable silence ensued. Suddenly a sight beyond Montparnasse caught Eponine's attention; a savior from this hindering situation. "Ah, look! A garden!"
Montparnasse pivoted around, his eyes following the path from Eponine's pointing finger. On the opposite side of the square, adjacent to a few juxtaposing buildings was a black iron gate, currently wide open, allowing the public access. Beyond the gate was indeed a garden, small in size compared to the renowned gardens of Paris. But such was ideal for people of such occupations; the magnificent gardens would never willingly grant them access. "Hm, quite true. That is a garden." As his hand absentmindedly moved up to his chin, he scrutinized the raiment of the bourgeois strolling through the greenery. He nodded in approval when he deemed his outfit more chic. Turning back to Eponine, he realized that she no longer stood nearby. With a vigorous speed she had already commenced towards the garden, matted hair flying haphazardly.
As soon as she had passed through the iron gate, Eponine paused to absorb the stunning scene. Spring had assailed Paris with full force. Multihued buds were emerging from every niche, showering the garden with a myriad of colors. Every hue was true and vivid; nothing was diluted or marred. Blossoms from the trees would occasionally be blown off by a fragrant light breeze, floating down like chromatic raindrops. The birds' songs were never silent, not a stanza omitted, not a line forgotten. Thus was the glorious chorus of spring, the descending of the holy angels from above. Paris no longer smelled of sewage or fumes; floral aromas were now prevailing. Merry mortals were meandering through this paradise. The elderly were delighting in the simple pleasures of life, the children were frolicking and laughing, the lovers were loving.
Rebirth and new birth transpired during this season, and not a caste was exempt from it. The heavenly air filled Eponine's lungs, regenerating life throughout her entire body. Every cell sprang to life. Her stomach no longer pleaded for nourishment, her blisters no longer throbbed, and her limbs no longer felt a trace of weakness. All thoughts of her misery were vanquished by the ethereal landscape. The memories of the agonizingly bitter winter were utterly consigned to oblivion. Spring was here. Life was here.
A hand on her shoulder recaptured Eponine's attention; Montparnasse had joined her. With an arm draped around his girl's bony shoulders, he too surveyed the vista, but with different eyes. Instead of being attracted to and mesmerized by the flowers and birds, Montparnasse perceived with elation all the oblivious bourgeois with their vulnerable pockets and purses.
The couple remained there, before a large fountain that decorated the middle of the garden, for an incalculable amount of time, each absorbed in their own fascination. Eponine couldn't repress a large smile from watching a group of lighthearted children amused by a large insect they discovered. Montparnasse on the other hand failed to suppress a mischievous smirk when an affluent woman passed by.
While Eponine's eyes were wandering about the garden in search for more blissful scenes to observe, she noticed a handsome young couple standing underneath a budding chestnut tree. Both of their hands were in the other's as they stood but a few inches apart. Their faces were radiant; bliss glowed in their beaming mouths and sparkling eyes. The great love and adoration between the two was exceedingly evident. And never had Eponine beheld such a sight. "What is that?" she whispered to herself. "Love? Papa and mama never looked at each other like that…" Although she was adequately close enough to observe the strange couple, her extreme curiosity implored her to creep closer. But Montparnasse's strong arm around her, although oblivious to her at the moment, prohibited her.
Her eyes strained for a clearer view. It was at that moment she became exceptionally aware of the two's appearances. The young man, perhaps in his early twenties, was attractive, sporting chocolate brown locks combed back straight to perfection. He dressed with fine taste, though conceivably not as discerning as Montparnasse. His cheeks bore the fresh and rosy color of youth. The ideal man of the era. Howbeit, it was his darling who was the more dazzling of the two. Golden locks cascaded down her shoulders in waves and framed her fair face. Eyes of sky blue glistened from under long dark lashes. Her blushing cheeks beautifully complimented the red of her lips. She also possessed a profusion of poise and grace, as displayed by the way she held herself upward. Not only were her face appealing and her manner charming, but also the gown that bedecked her was perhaps the finest in Paris. The dress was long and elegant, the sleeves large and the full skirt pooling slightly on the cobblestone pavement. With a silky golden fabric and an abundant amount of white lace trimming almost every layer, the dress was certainly the envy of the garden; it was the envy of Eponine at least. She stood mesmerized at such a gorgeous gown. Even in Montfermeil she had never seen anything that could possibly compare. The silk sparkled radiantly in the sunlight. Eponine's eyes fell to her reflection in the fountain before her and she grimaced.
The fancy apparel was not solely what kept Eponine's gaze fixed on the magical couple. A moment after the miserable creature released a wistful sigh at the dress she'd never have, an act of the girl she was examining caught her attention. The couple for some time had been exchanging tender whispers and giggles, but now they had moved a step closer. The girl had gently rested a delicate gloved hand on her dear's handsome face, the affectionate expression never altering. While Eponine had witnessed such things before, she had never hitherto seen it done with such feeling. This couple was sincere; perhaps that is what entranced Eponine. Soon the gesture was returned by the young man, and the pair stood cradling the other's face. Though they were beyond Eponine's hearing range, she determined that they were speaking endearments to each other. The man's finger began tracing the girl's lips, earning a blush from his darling, which in turn caused him to chuckle. The display was so sweet, so sugary, that it might have repulsed Eponine. However, that was not the case. Eponine remained watching with an incomprehensible awe and respect.
When the girl kissed her fellow, Eponine was dumbfounded. The way the two pairs of sublime lips touched under the blossoming chestnut tree appeared to be a fairytale popped out from its pages. The contact held intimacy and innocence, love and devotion. What shocked Eponine the most was that the sweet exchange appeared neither hungry nor demanding. It was gentle, cautious even. Never had she viewed a kiss like the two lovers were exchanging, and she possessed no knowledge that one day she would see such again, though between a different couple in a different garden. "I didn't know lips could meet like that…" Eponine mumbled, still engrossed by the affectionate lovers. After a few more moments, the kiss ended, leaving the two blushing and bashful. Eponine smiled longingly, absorbed in daydreams of what such contact must be like. She had kissed Montparnasse before, but never in such a manner. She didn't know such a form existed. Montparnasse was customarily quite aggressive with her, never allowing her adequate breathing time. Their breathless kisses always engendered a lightheaded feeling in her brain, like she was being hurled mercilessly off a cliff. What would a tender kiss feel like?
During Eponine's preoccupation, Montparnasse had neither acknowledged Eponine's strange behavior nor the couple she was admiring. His surveillance of possible victims was interrupted by an unidentified giggling noise coming from the west end of the garden. Optically following the sound, his eyes rested upon a cluster of four young ladies with handkerchiefs at their lips. The stifled giggles originated from them. Curious at what or whom their laughter was directed, the dandy spent a few moments analyzing them.
The quartet of young females was an exquisite group, the crème de la crème of Paris. Their vibrant locks were fashioned stylishly, their faces were powdered, and their gowns were ostentatious. Superbly flawless was their postures, painting the effect of four impeccably sculpted statues. These were undoubtedly well-bred ladies.
Once he had completed his appraisal, Montparnasse perceived another feature of the four: their smirks. While their dainty giggling persisted, their wide smirks and bright eyes were concentrated in one direction – his. This newly determined fact intrigued Montparnasse immensely, impelling him to listen intently when the women commenced chattering faintly. Although a sizable distance lay between them, with meticulous straining he could discern each syllable.
"Such a gorgeous lad," admired one of the four, fluttering her eyelashes in Montparnasse's direction. Hearing this bloated the dandy with pride.
"But what appalling company!" exclaimed another through giggles, simultaneously shocked and amused. At this, Montparnasse examined his surroundings to discern what company the woman could be referring to. His eyes landed on Eponine.
"Indeed!" agreed the third woman, laughing delicately into her laced handkerchief. "I cannot decide, ladies. Is it a third-rate whore or a first-rate mutt?"
The fourth, taller than the others, with an elegant long neck and hair in a tight bun, looked with contempt at Montparnasse's 'company.' "A third-rate mutt, Cécile."
Releasing a sigh, the youngest of the group gazed yearningly at Montparnasse. "Why does he waste his time with that raggedy hussy? With his dazzling appearance he could effortlessly win one of us."
"All of us!" swooned Cécile, replacing her handkerchief with an elegant pink fan. As she fanned herself, she peered over the fan at Montparnasse with coquettish eyes.
"He obviously has no taste whatsoever," huffed the tallest lady. The four then proceeded to deride everything about Eponine, from her chafed begrimed feet to her greasy matted hair. Their obnoxious giggling augmented.
It was at that moment that agitated Montparnasse began to tune out, engrossed in his own ponderings. There existed no doubt that the ladies were referring to Eponine; his arm was still around her after all. While Eponine was still observing the lovesick couple under the chestnut tree, Montparnasse launched a discerning examination of her. He did not follow her dazzled gaze, nor even take note of it; he was far too focused on another aspect.
Montparnasse had always comprehended Eponine's dilapidation; he had never deceived himself into viewing her ravishing. He had, however, grown accustomed to her appearance, no longer withdrawing from her rags or cringing at her broken smile. Initially her few missing teeth had horrified him, but he barely noticed them now. That is, until the girls had accused him of tackiness. As his sights settled on her grimy face, he wondered silently, "Is it so incredibly difficult to bathe occasionally?" Her miserable appearance was caused by her poverty, he understood that…or did he? "I've never done an honest job in my life and look at me! She has no reason to be so gruesome." Then why did he consort with her?
It was at that instant, while Montparnasse was questioning his relationship with the wretched ragamuffin, that Eponine grew intrepid from longing and curiosity. Beholding the amorous couple had evoked her to swoon and had planted in her mind a desire: to experience what that girl had experienced. Naturally she sought her own lover to fulfill that craving. Placing her filthy hands on Montparnasse's taintless cheeks, she tried immensely to imitate what she had just observed. This action roused Montparnasse from his contemplations, but his instincts had yet to revive. He stood there momentarily stunned, neither welcoming nor refusing the touch.
Eponine remained in that manner for a moment, gently stroking his cheeks, while straining to remember what else she had witnessed. She recalled some tender whispering occurring, though she had failed to understand it. Thus she had to improvise. "'Parnasse, you are so pretty that the flowers die in your shadow." She attempted a romantic whisper, but her voice came out raspy. "Um…" A minute-long interlude followed this hesitation as Eponine racked her brain for another compliment. Her eyes scanned all of his features, yet not a single flattery could be produced. Thus, she simply advanced to step three. With as much tenderness and chastity as a creature like her could possess, she brought her lips to his, kissing lightly.
Montparnasse's reflexes remained numb as she executed this endearment, but Eponine failed to notice, her eyes closed in bliss. It was pleasant to kiss without him practically chewing on her or choking her. However, a certain incident soon shattered Eponine's ecstasy. A chorus of sickening laughter proved enough to wake Montparnasse; he instantaneously broke away. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded furiously, his enraged glare piercing Eponine.
Eponine, startled by Montparnasse's fury, stumbled backwards. It was true she had never accomplished such feat before, but she hadn't conceived it would provoke his wrath. Although he was intimidating, she stood firm. "Kissing you! Lovers do that, don't they? You always kiss me!"
"That was far from a kiss!" Montparnasse insisted, eyebrows creasing into a revolted expression. "That was the wimpiest thing I've ever felt! Weaker than that gamin who tried to paralyze me by stepping on my toes! You have to learn how to kiss properly, 'Ponine." His disdain was beginning to decline, but his embarrassment remained. "But not in public."
Eponine, though still perplexed by the dandy's response, acquiesced. She was completely oblivious to the ladies mocking her.
Montparnasse pivoted around with her, his fingers digging into the thin flesh of her shoulder. Starting for the exit, he muttered. "Come, let's go." Silence ensued, the tension increasing.
Even after they exited the garden no one uttered a sound. Eponine was tentative after what had just transpired, while Montparnasse's mind was overflowing with uncertainties. He would constantly glance at Eponine, scrutinizing her appearance. Purposely choosing the less traveled paths to wander proved his newly-wrought humiliation of being seen with her. "She is wretched. She is blemishing my elegance. But…she's so darn addicting!" There had to be some solution that didn't involve disposal. He just required time to mull it over. Suddenly Eponine's voice interrupted his internal soliloquy.
"'Parnasse, let's go to the Luxembourg Garden. I've always wanted to go there. There are fountains and trees and flowers and -"
Montparnasse cut her off. "You must be joking. You? In the Luxembourg? In that?" He jabbed her blouse harshly, causing the white rose to unfasten and fall to ground. The petals were detached and strewn about the sidewalk. "Use common sense, girl."
Eponine heaved a thwarted sigh. Montparnasse's sour mood was beginning to resemble her father's. The thought of her father suddenly brought something to mind. "Oh! I have to get back home! Father's expecting me to run more errands. See you, Montparnasse!" Without even realizing it, she refrained from using his nickname. With a sudden desire to flee from the dandy, she ducked out from under his arm and scampered down the boulevard towards the Gorbeau house. Montparnasse was left with his thoughts.
Author's note: This story takes place before Eponine meets Marius and while Marius is stalking Cosette.
Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables.
