TO CARVE AN ANGEL FROM MARBLE act two, chapter thirteen
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( november 1831 )
HOURS PASSED, AND AS the morning turned to afternoon, the Cafe Musain grew busier with its usual flurry of customers. The buzz of conversation traveled all the way upstairs, where two figures sat across from one another in a comfortable silence that had lasted all day.
Their faces were buried in their respective books, and if any onlooker were to take a peak inside the room, they would have found humor in just how similar the pair looked to one another. To some, the silence they sat in would have been uncomfortable, but to them (although it wasn't known to either that the other felt this way) the afternoon had been spent in a pleasurable contentment.
Madeleine found it strange how comfortable she felt in his presence. It was definitely the longest amount of time she'd ever spent alone with Enjolras, but if she could have had her way, she would have preferred many more of her afternoons to be spent just like this.
It had been close to an hour since either of them had moved, when Enjolras had excused himself to go downstairs in search of some more tea. He'd returned with a cup for Madeleine, despite her protests that she wasn't in the need of one, and gave it to her with a smile so gentle that she couldn't bring herself to turn it down.
She told herself that there was very little she wouldn't do to make him once more smile at her in such a way.
Once the clock struck two and the cup of tea Enjolras had given her was empty, Madeleine closed her book and set it down on the table in front of her. She'd been invested in the story of Anne Elliot and Captain Frederick Wentworth all afternoon (despite the teasing remarks she received from Enjolras regarding her enjoyment of romance novels) but now, she wanted to stretch her legs before the rest of Les Amis began to arrive for that evening's meeting.
She crossed the room to stand in front of the window that overlooked the street in front of the Musain. She used the sleeve of her dress to wipe away at the fog that had formed on the window as the warmth of the cafe and the cool weather outside clashed against the glass. Dark clouds had gathered on the horizon though were barely visible over the tops of the buildings. Rain was due to arrive within the following hours, and with the cool weather that had fallen over the city, the night ahead was sure to be long, wet, and uncomfortable.
Madeleine was thankful to be inside on such an awful day, but she knew that others were not so lucky. With the weather growing colder with each passing day, she feared what the unforgiving French winter would bring to those unfortunate enough to be stuck on the street. They had nowhere to go to shelter from the frigid weather, and the thin clothing that most of them wore would do little to nothing to keep them warm. Would they even survive to see the spring, to see the future that she and the other revolutionaries were fighting to give them?
