Hello! So far so good! I hope you all still lik the sory and haven't given up on me yet! In this chapter I really tried to show the progression of H & É relationship, hopefully this will help to show that things aren't going too fast. Also at the end there is a little in Javert's POV. so please tell me what you think of it. Please review and thanks xxxx
SUNRISE SUNSET
She came by moon fall to watch the street,
In the stillness of dusk on desperate feet.
She came by the twilight to dream he was there,
She left by the new moon full of despair.
She went hungry by the suns last light,
She stayed hungry in the dull of the night.
She died by the sunrise safe in his arms,
Where neither daylight or moonlight could cause her harm.
The weeks withered by and the snow eventually came, like a fleecy fall. It twinkled down in white flurries, so bright that even the moons rays scattered upon it and reflected back up into the skies they had come from. Lighting the night. Cold had also seeped down with the snow, freezing the river and cooling the veins of all who braved the outdoors. It hardened the crops in the fields, causing another great food shortage. It summoned the plague, the flew and many other fevers. It killed and it harmed and it scared all who lived in it. Éponine had hardly noticed the it however, she was now seemingly shrouded in a constant warmth. The warmth of Henri Dubois. He was like her saviour, after that horrible and wretched day, the eleventh of November, The day Azelma fell asleep forever. Since then, Henri had come everyday. He usually would bring Éponine bread or perhaps a bottle of milk and check she was eating properly. He behaved in a gruff order and was thoroughly composed, when all Éponine had wanted was him to take her into his arms like he had when her Azelma had died.
He would usually stay with her for at least half the day, taking a walk with her through the city or sitting with her as she talked nonstop to him about all the things there was in life. From an onlookers point of view, one would say he was indifferent towards her, when it was obvious that she was totally besotted with him. Smitten by cupids arrows.
She would sometimes, as they were talking, angle her face towards his and try to peer strait into his eyes, which she had discovered to be a deep charcoal. This would only cause her to become flustered, not being able to properly articulate words, which would lead to her own embarrassment. Sometimes, she would also try to brush her hand with his, remembering the way it had felt when he had gripped her shoulder on the first day they had met. She had also told him that no one had ever been as nice to her as he had, which had made him smile, the first time in days. The only negative was the two elder thènardiers. They had reacted with extreme anger when they had found out Azelma had perished. At first they had not believed Éponine, then when the had finally accepted that she really had died, they were furious. They had blamed Éponine entirely, even though her father had forbid her from going to get the doctor and this had made poor Éponine distressed. She had arrived at the place by the square, where she would always meet Henri and had, proceeded to tell him everything. Instead of the affection she had longed for, Henri had only given her a slight caress of the cheek and had told her that time would heal all wounds.
Presently Éponine was hauling a bucket full of snow upstairs to her miserable home. The well had frozen up the previous week and their only water source had been the putrid snow, turned almost black with filth in most places, which made it even harder to find. Éponine had been out for almost an hour before having seen a small scattering of white, sheltered from the dirt by a slight ledge. Now, after collecting it, Éponine's hands were raw and bloodied, cracked from the cold and scratched by the handle of her bucket. Even this did not detour her, she quickly moved the bucket so it was on top of the burning embers of the once crackling fire. Then she quickly stripped out of her torn chemise and mens pants, grabbing a piece of old clothe that would work to rid the filth from her small frame. She plunged the clothe into the bucket of Luke warm water and scrubbed vigorously at her skin, marvelling at the colour that that the melted snow had changed to after washing herself. Éponine then used the water to wash her clothes before she hung them over the embers to dry. Éponine wrapped herself in a sheet and sat, shivering as she waited for the clothes to dry. She hadn't seen Henri yet today and was anxiously awaiting his company. Éponine always tried to make an effort to look presentable for Henri, she felt like she owed it to him.
"Won't he ever be so happy to see me!" she mused aloud. Anticipation bubbled up inside of her. Her emotions were racing and her imaginations were spilling over with fantasies of how her day would go. Her dreams made her forget the world, she would block all the misery out that went on around her, escaping into the thoughts she cherished, the thoughts of how she would eventually find love with Henri.
She poked the corner of her chemise, testing it for dampness and when none seemed apparent, she straightened herself out then slipped it over her head. It smelt slightly better and was now rid of any dirt, coated in only old and fading stains which were scattered across the fabric as if they were a pattern. The breeches were also dry so she quickly pulled them on, in a hurry to get to Henri. She stumbled round the room dressing herself, feeling feminine was a rare thing but now, as Éponine flustered about her looks, she was feeling like a woman. Once dressed in her horrid attire she paused, thinking about her hair which lay in waves from her crown to the tops of her thighs. She lifted her cap atop her head and coaxed out her wispy curls to frame her face. She then pulled the back section into a severe chignon which suited her tanned face and helped to endorse her sharp features. Utterly pleased with her hair she pulled on her coat and shoes then made her way to the meeting place.
As she stood in the frigid December air waiting for Monsieur Henri, she watched the small flakes drifting down to earth and thought about their meaning, for everything must have a meaning. Was it to show that it truly was winter? was it to show how cold the world had gotten? Or was it something more? Was the snow maybe gods reminder of how we became spoilt with sin? The snow starts out just like us, as it rains from heaven, pure and innocent. Then, as the days continue onward it becomes dirtied, covered in the filth of the streets, no longer it's original clean self. Then, finally it will melt and return to the ground as water just like how we die and our bodies return to the earth as dust. As Éponine pondered her sudden realisation, she heard a clamour from further down the street. Turning, she saw Javert, the inspector, now in perfect health, striding down the street flanked by another six gendarme. Éponine would have taken a step backwards, concealing herself in shadow, then slipping away. If it hadn't been for Henri who appeared from the same direction as the police and began to stride towards her.
It happened, to quick, almost to quick for words, Éponine ran, Henri ran, Javert ran. Javert had impacted with the frail girl before she had even turned fully around, Henri had stopped, suddenly no longer running or even walking. Holding his breathe just like the whole of Paris. Waiting.
Javert had shoved his large, strong arm at Éponine's throat, preventing her from moving or even breathing. At once Éponine was gripped by fear and yet she still glared into the old mans hollow eyes with courage. He applied pressure on her thin neck and snarled, "You are under arrest, in the name of the law for the list of treasonous and treacherous crimes which you have committed." and then in a quieter but still strained voice he added, "You have been mistaken, for no one shall ever hold a knife against the skin of my throat. For I am the law and the law is not marked."
Javert held Èponine until her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell asleep from the lack of air. All Henri could do was stand by the cobblestones that marked the footpath and gaze guiltily at the scene before him. It angered him that a man who was of noble place would harm a girl so terribly. The only thing that seemed to keep him in his place was he threat of jail and all it stands for. Javert hauled Èponine's listless body away and the gendarme followed him as sheep would follow a Shepard.
When Èponine woke, she felt the cold seep into her bones. She felt the fear consume her mind and she felt all happiness wither from existence. She was lain in a cell filled with the worst of society. Corrupted by the crimes in which they had committed and left to rot in the squalor of their own helplessness. Éponine could feel herself shaking, the full affects of winter had finally taken their toll on her fragile body. Tremors wreaked through her as quickly as a horse would gallop across the plains and she let out a breathy exhale. Henri would come for her, he had to, Éponine knew that life would not be continuing for much longer unless she was removed from her current lodgings.
Éponine felt a handle, cold and frail, touch the bareness of her ankle, she turned sharply and saw an old withered woman. The woman's eyes were sunken and her teeth were partly gone while the rest were rotting in her head, she was the epitome of a common wrench. "Girl, 'ave ye got any nourriture on yer person?" the old woman asked in a voice that was so cracked and ruined that it showed many a day without proper drink. Éponine was not fazed by this desperate display and she quickly pulled her leg back before thrusting it into the woman's side, "Nah, get away ye old crazy bloody bat!" The woman shrunk back and crawled on, into the corner where she had come from and once again, submitted her sole to the shadows. Éponine lay her back against the rough iron gate and pulled her legs to her chest and then she thought. Why did it have to be today? She had been ever so excited to see Henri and now all the efforts in which she had spent time were wasted. Her hair had come tumbling down, out of the chiffon and her cap was no longer sitting atop her head, she felt useless. Letting her eyes drift close and her mouth grow taunt she tried to relax.
It took almost a day for Javert to summon her. She was taken by two men, dragged along the floor and treated as if she was no more than an animal prow to slaughter. Her feet were scraped against the floor so roughly that one of her old leather boots came loose and fell off her scarred foot onto the stone pavings. Her wrists were bruised by the grip which seemed to be as hard as bone and all she could do was let out a small whimper. She tried, pathetically, to raise to her feet and walk with a little more dignity but was only rewarded with a tough yanking on her arms or a boot to her belly. Èponine was not scared but worried. Her mind was swimming through all the many possibilities that lay ahead of her. 'Surely they won't hang me?' She thought followed by, 'Will they let me go?' Which was then answered by, 'Of course not, you stupid girl. Why would they arrest you just to let you go?'
By the time she had arrived outside the inspectors office, Èponine was shaking, her whole body trembling and shivering with the anticipation of what could possibly happen to her. She was so near fainting that even the sight of a familiar face would send her tumbling to the floor, so when inspector Javert opened the door it was the final frontier. Èponine slipped slowly to the floor, straight through the two men's hands and landed with a thud against the stone. Crumpled, battered and broken, Èponine slept shrouded in darkness and the uncertainty of what was to come.
Javert was instantly enraged at this slip of a girl who so easily defied him. How dare she stand up to him and get away with it? Javert would be sure that she would never see the morning sky again but first he would need information. In this dog eat dog world, one thing that always remains the same is power. In Javert's case information meant power and now, with the girl in his grasp, he was one step closer to the power that he so craved. One of the things that Javert hungered for was the control and power, the respect and fear of all those who were above and beneath him. However there was always a catch, some small detail, no matter how minuscule, ever persistent. In the situation at present, the catch had appeared to be Henri Dubois. Anytime Javert had spied the girl, she was always in the company of Monsieur Dubois. It was infuriating yet relieving, to believe that this man could be held as leverage against her and vice versa. One thing Javert prided himself to be against all others, was thorough and he was determined to leave no places unsearched, no matter how dark or perilous they seemed to be. The law would be welcomed in all dark corners of Paris, it wasn't important how it got there but Javert was adamant that he would be the great being who would fight the night with light.
He turned his sneer towards the two gendarme, who stood by the door as if they had never gazed upon it's wood before and barked, "I shall not care what state that thief is in, she shall be sat on the block wether she is dead or joyful. Now perform your duty and close the damn door!" It made Javert smirk as he saw the two terrified men busy themselves with heaving the girl onto the block, where she proceeded to slump forwards and hit the floor only to then be tied in place. Javert watched as her dark hair tumbled like water, spilling and sliding every way as the men's movements jerked her form place to place. It had been too long since Javert had studied another person without reason and he cherished the way it felt to relieve his mind of all duties, if only for a while looking up, he saw the two men standing to attention by the door.
"Tis about the hour we get started. Now, with hurried dignity, bring a gallon of water." Javert drawled and watched the way the men's backs straitened to become a stiff but formal position. They both turned and walked for the door until Javert added as an afterthought. "And make it chilled, from the Seine." Javert gave himself a moment of sadistic pleasure as he thought about the fright that the thief would surely get, when an entire gallon of deathly cold water was poured over her. Inspector Javert favoured the chase, he loved it when they played tough. He adored the way in which it made him feel, to know that it had been him to brake them down and make them confess. Even when the prey gives chase, the wolf shall be on it's heals, chasing, fighting and ending its life and Éponine was like any other preyed upon. She would be beaten and killed, the law shall always win, Even Then.
Even then, when happiness prevails and friendship blossoms, the shadows will come and darkness will fall, Even then.