"Don't put your trust in revolutions. They always come round again. That's why they're called revolutions. People die, and nothing changes." - Terry Pratchett, Night Watch
A retelling of part of Les Miserables, from about 1828-1832.
Élise was born i...
The next week followed much like that previous day. Once asleep, I would inevitably be woken either by the nightmares or Enjolras shaking me awake from the nightmares. They changed little from the first one that I had, and while I became acclimatised to the lack of sleep, the horrors contained in my dreams were not something I thought I'd ever be able to get used to. Running on such little sleep, I then woke up again with the sun, got on with sewing until Grantaire came to find me, practiced both singlestick and some degree of weaponless self-defence during the day, and spent the evenings in the Musain sewing and overseeing Gavroche and Navet's reading. Sometimes Gavroche would go and read to Courfeyrac instead, while I taught Navet. On one occasion he went over to Grantaire and Jehan, to see what books they were reading, but decided that love poetry was not at all to his liking.
The one exception to this routine was the day that Courfeyrac had decided to take me shoe shopping. In the end, it wasn't the day he had suggested, but the Friday after it. When he came to pick me up, he was not alone - he brought with him Musichetta, Joly's (and also Bossuet's) mistress on the grounds that she had excellent taste, and knew far more than he did about these matters. Upon being introduced, she gave me the look of slight shock that I was beginning to expect from people who saw my face for the first time, though she hid it very well.
Conversation was a little stilted and awkward to begin with, but Courfeyrac's enthusiasm and easy going manner helped to break the ice. It would be nice to have some female friends, I couldn't help thinking. Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and the others - I liked them all, and enjoyed spending time in their company, but no matter what, their lives were so very different from mine. They had university studies, while I had work. To have someone whose experiences were closer to mine to talk to and spend time with was a luxury I'd never really thought about having before.
Musichetta explained that we could go to some of the ladies shoemakers first, to see and try on what manner of things were in fashion, and then we could go to the cheapshops and see what they had in stock that was both to our tastes, and more easily within our budget.
"Of course, we mustn't look at too many different things in each of the more expensive shops, when we have no intention to buy anything," she explained. "That would be rude, and I always dislike to take up the time of the shop keepers unnecessarily. But there's no harm in looking at a few different things in each shop. What colour is the dress you shall wear to the ball? We should find some shoes that go well with it. White is, of course, always bound to go with anything, but the ball is outside in the gardens, and so there's the danger of them being ruined by mud."
"It's a white cotton, printed with flowers in pink and purple and green," I said, pulling some of the paper that it was wrapped in aside. "I don't have a proper bonnet, either, so perhaps it's worth looking for one too, as well as the shoes? A straw one would probably be best - one that I can wear when I go out during the day, too."
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I couldn't help thinking that a bonnet would carry out the dual functions of respectability and hiding my face, making my less recognisable should Montparnasse happen to turn up again.
