A picture of Jean Prouvaire collapsed over a table, bright, polished stones lying in piles around him. A strand of his hair hangs over one eye, and his arm, resting on the table, conceals his other eye. His hand lies poised in a pen-gripping position.

Marius walked down the path in the Luxembourg Park, making his way to the bench the lovely girl in gray and her terrifying father always occupied. Absorbed in his dream-like thoughts of dancing with her in the Salon de Fêtes, he did not see Jean Prouvaire crouching in the path until he tripped over him and sprawled onto the pavement. After a moment, Marius eased himself up onto his stinging palms and looked behind him. Jean Prouvaire remained in the center of the path, apparently fascinated by something on the ground. Marius groaned, and stood, brushing his trousers off. "Prouvaire, what are you doing?"

"I am looking for pebbles." Prouvaire did not shift his gaze.

Marius frowned. Only an inch of space separated Prouvaire's nose from the ground. "Indeed . . . why?"

Now Prouvaire sat up, but he looked hurt and a bit disdainful. "Why indeed? Pebbles contain entire worlds, they breathe with a vibrancy that no one on earth can detect, and make up every plane of existence! Consider the impact and the knowledge one will gain from the collecting of such exquisite, incomprehensible formations of tiny, perfect minerals. One might be King Solomon for all the wonder pebbles could bring to man." He sighed, deep and passionate, his eyes heaven-drawn, his hands resting palm-up on his knees – an image of complete awe-struck ecstasy.

Marius cleared his throat. "Pebbles are just rocks, Prouvaire. There's no-"

But Prouvaire leaped to his feet and grabbed Marius by his cravat, pulling him close to his face, which burned with wrath. "Pebbles are not 'just rocks,' my dear, ignorant man. If it were not for God's blessing of pebbles, the ground beneath your feet would crumble away, leaving you stranded and flying away in the vast emptiness of space, parted forever from your beloved. Do you not realize the importance of pebbles? And all practicality aside, pebbles contain mysteries even the most learned men of our day cannot imagine. Their wonders and beauties are infinite, spanning across the human continuum in ageless awe and luminosity. If one were to uncover all their mysteries, surely he would have no further need of bliss on this physical plane in which we now dwell." He gave Marius' cravat a tug, and narrowed his sky-blue (or rather, sapphire-pebble blue) eyes. "Consider it well, poor Marius. A pebble may one day be a turning point in your life, and you would be utterly foolish not to recognize or appreciate it." He released Marius and stalked down the path, gaze fixed on the ground once more.

Marius rubbed his neck and watched Prouvaire go, feeling a little shaken, but enlightened as well. As he looked aside, he spotted a black-burnished pebble lying at his feet. He stooped and picked it up. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and examined it. Perhaps, after cleaning and polishing it, he could lay on his love's bench, as a token. If Jean Prouvaire proved correct, surely a girl could wish for no other gift.

The next day, Cosette found a small rock on her bench. She knocked it away before sitting down with her father.