A Stolen Heart

Chapter 4

Chapter 4 -

Enjolras took a gulp of water and leant back in his chair, closing his eyes as he did, starting to tire in the early evening. When he opened them again another pair of eyes were staring into them.

"Christ!" He exclaimed, having not heard Eponine enter the cafe. She laughed as he ran his hand through his hair, still tired from a near sleepless night.

"Announce yourself next time perhaps?" Eponine just grinned at him, ignoring his suggestion.

"I came to apologise for last night. I am sorry if I overstepped my bounds, Monsieur." Her expression sobered as cautiousness crept into her eyes. Enjolras waved it off.

"Please, it was rather quick-witted of you and I admire intelligence, not resent it." She was relieved to hear it and sank back into her chair. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching students enter and exit the cafe chaotically, abuzz with gossip of the day.

"Eponine." Enjolras said quietly. The way he said her name, there it was again, as if handling each syllable with the utmost care. A whisper on the wind. Just hearing it come from the great leader's mouth made her feel as if she was someone of significance for once.

"Why do you think so little of our revolution?" He asked, an obscure vulnerability taking form in his expression. Eponine faltered at his question. She had never mentioned it to him.

"I heard you talking to Grantaire yesterday." He provided her with an explanation after seeing her confusion.

"Oh, you heard that then." She stalled, unwilling to undermine Enjolras' cause to his face.

"Yes. Is it true you think we have no chance?" He pushed her for an answer and she looked into her lap, fidgeting with the faded cloth of her skirt.

"I think you are fools." She breathed, not daring to look up, afraid of his response.

"Fools? Why? We are doing this for you, and your people." Enjolras was perplexed at her answer, itching for her to elaborate.

"You see, right there's your problem. You have already spoke of us as different from yourself. And anyhow the people will not see it like that. They will not stand with you, Enjolras. A ragtag group of school boys stand not a chance against France's army." She drummed her fingers against the oak table and glanced lazily around, feigning indifference. She snapped her head round to stare at him when his hands enclosed upon one of hers.

"There are ways that the people can fight. Tell me how to persuade them to believe this. Please, 'Ponine, help me." He pleaded. Eponine had never seen this fearless Apollo ask for anyone's help before, let alone a street urchin's. Warmth ebbed from his hands to hers. She was entranced by his voice asking for hers.

She began nodding despite her doubts, the fear she had felt in his presence before that night in the alley, had slowly been dissipating more each time they encountered one another. Now here he was. The indomitable revolutionary treating the dirty gamine as an equal. Eponine's fear had been replaced with a deep respect for Enjolras.