A Promise

Chapter Twenty-Four

        A heavy silence filled the room as the news settled in. General Lemarque, the champion of the poor, was dead and gone, just like that. I glanced at Enjolras and saw that he looked awful. His eyes were full of anguish and he was bending over as if the news and given him a terrible blow to the chest. I gently put my hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. He gave me a grateful smile and straightened up. "The world has lost a great man today," he said mournfully. Then, something in his eyes changed. His back straightened and his confidence returned. I could tell he had a plan. "We can use his death as an advantage," he said slowly.

        "How?" Combeferre asked skeptically.

        Light sparkled in Enjolras' stormy grey eyes. "Lemarque's death is the sign we await," he declared in a low voice. "His death is the spark we've been hoping for. On his funeral day they will honor his name, and then we will make our move. The people will rise up to honor him! This is the perfect opportunity to set the light of the revolution ablaze."

        "But the funeral is in three days!" Combeferre protested. "We're not prepared."

        "We've been preparing for months," Enjolras argued. "It's time we put our plans into action."

        "I agree with Enjolras," Marius said. "We can only prepare so much. There comes a point when we just have to do it."

        The rest of the students murmured in agreement, although Combeferre still looked skeptical.

        "Are you sure we're ready?" Combeferre asked.

        "I'm more sure of it than anything," Enjolras said firmly. "Eponine, my love, would you mind delivering one last speech in the public square tomorrow? I need you to get everyone riled up."

        "You can count on it," I promised.

        "And Musichetta, you'll make more rosettes?" Enjolras asked.

        "Of course," 'Chetta replied. I noticed that her face was very pale.

        "What's wrong?" I asked her quietly.

        "Nothing," she replied quickly, turning away. I could have sworn I saw tears in her eyes. I made a mental note to check up on her later.

        "Grantaire, do we have all the guns we need?" Enjolras asked. There was no response. "Grantaire?"

        I turned to look at Grantaire and saw that he was deeply immersed in his bottle of alcohol and was paying no attention at all to the situation around him. "Grantaire!" Enjolras barked.

        "Huh?"

        "Put the bottle down!" Enjolras demanded. "Do we have the guns we need?"

        "Give me brandy on my breath and I'll breathe 'em all to death," Grantaire said, giving me a wink. I stifled a laugh.

        "Eponine, don't encourage him!" Enjolras said, exasperated.

        I shrugged, still grinning. "I thought it was funny!"

        "At least Eponine appreciates me," Grantaire said, pretending to pout.

        "Enough nonsense!" Enjolras shouted. "Do we have the guns we need?"

        "Yeah, of course we do," Grantaire replied.

        "Good," Enjolras said. "Then I see no problem why we can't have the revolution in three days' time. Here's the plan: We'll all attend the funeral procession, and, when the time is right, I will take our red flag and stand on top of the hearse. We will take over the procession as quickly and peacefully as possible, rally the people, and then retreat to the barricade, where we will make our stand against the National Guard. My friends, the blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France!"

        Everyone cheered, including me. "I can't wait to fight for our cause," I declared.

        "Oh no," Enjolras said, shaking his head. "Eponine, we've already had this conversation. You're not fighting."

        "I am fighting!" I argued. "I want to be by your side."

        "I want to fight too!" Gavroche declared.

        "No!" I said firmly. "You're too little, Gavroche. But Enjolras, I don't see why I can't fight."

        "I can't risk losing you," Enjolras said softly.

        "I don't want to lose you either, but you don't see me forbidding you to fight! You can't tell me what to do, Enjolras."

        "I know I can't boss you around Eponine, but I am still the leader of this revolution. What I say goes. I can turn down fighters if I want to, and I am turning you down."

        "Enjolras, please-"

        "That's the end of this conversation," Enjolras said firmly. "Eponine, please, I beg you not to fight. Stay with Musichetta and look after your brothers. Look, if you promise not to fight, I'll agree to name our future daughter Ambrosine or whatever weird name you want to call her."

        I sighed, knowing that it was useless to argue with him. "Okay," I said. "I won't fight."

        Enjolras smiled and kissed my forehead. "Thank you," he said, and walked away to discuss more battle plans with Combeferre, who still didn't seem to think we were prepared to revolt so soon.

        I watched him walk away, guilt weighing down on my chest as I realized that this was the first time I'd lied to his face ever since that day I'd tried to scam him so long ago. "I am sorry Enjolras," I said under my breath. "But I made a promise to you that I would never leave your side no matter what. That's a promise I intend to keep."