Memoirs of Les Amis de l'ABC

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Night-Time Gentleman Callers

The knock shocked the company that fell silent at once.

"Whoever could call upon us at an hour so late?" Cosette pondered aloud.

Sybill noticed the paleness creep onto her father's features. "I have heard," Sybill announced, "that soldiers are coming to each house in the night to search for materials in favor of treason."

Valjean's gaze fell to Sybill at once. Cosette looked between the two curiously. "Papa, what's wrong? What is it?"

"I cannot answer the door," Valjean declared, looking at Sybill.

"No," Sybill agreed.

Cosette looked curiously between the two. "Why ever not? Surely we have no such materials concealed within the house. We shall let them enter and pass through."

Valjean turned to Cosette. "Dearest Cosette, I am so sorry for the truths that have been withheld from you."

"Papa, what are you talking about?" Cosette questioned, fear starting to settle into the girl. She sensed the tenseness between her two family members and realized something was amiss that she was not privy to knowing.

"I shall fetch the door," solemnly responded Sybill.

"No," Valjean countered, shaking his head. "Perhaps they will think no one is home."

"Papa's right," Cosette eagerly agreed. "Or better yet that we may be asleep for the evening."

"Our candles are lit," Sybill shook her head. "Surely a voice or two may have carried past our door. We will soon be discovered if we fail to answer the call." Sybill took two steps towards the door, heavy with trepidation. "Papa, perhaps you may conceal—" She turned to the place her father stood to see him missing, and Cosette's eyes following Gavroche's room where the man hid. Cosette turned back to her sister, eyes large in fear, a pallor settling over her features.

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

"Cosette," Sybill whispered, "I fear you need come with me to the door, to distract them from finding Papa." Cosette nodded, swallowing down her panic. "I promise, it will be alright," Sybill smiled. She grabbed her sister's hand reassuringly, interlacing their fingers.

The two stalked to the door as hangmen to the noose, both fearful of their fate.

Sybill steeled herself and drew open the door to the two soldiers standing outside.

"Good evening, messieurs," Sybill greeted with a bow. Cosette followed her lead, giving a curtsy herself. "Please do forgive our slowness for we just put our young ward to bed and do hear such treacherous deeds done in the middle of the night we fear opening the door."

"Apologies for disturbing you both," the taller man replied. Sybill's eyes looked at him, instantly recognizing the man that trailed Javert at the marketplace. Anatole Lamarque, son of the general.

This is no mistake then, Sybill thought fretfully.

"We are under strict instruction to search the premises for illicit materials," the other soldier announced. This man had close cropped blonde hair with a mustache to match, concealing the whole of his upper lip. His brown eyes betrayed no sign of the intent of the visit, and Sybill knew not whether to fear him.

"Illicit materials?" Sybill gasped. "Why, search away, good officers, but you shall find nothing of ill-repute within." She held the door open wider for the gentlemen to enter.

Cosette found herself stricken dumb with fear. Was Sybill so sure that Valjean had concealed himself? Or was she merely counting on the men not to search too thoroughly? And for that matter why was it her father need hide?

"Mademoiselle, I must admit I remember our meeting in the marketplace just four days ago," Anatole announced as he crossed the threshold.

"I recall," Sybill nodded, smiling warmly to the solider. "Quite well."

Anatole blushed at the potential implication of her words. "You said it was just your sister and you who live here?"

"Yes, monsieur," Sybill nodded, leading the two men down the hallway. "Save for our ward, the young Gavroche you shall recall."

"The boy is hard to forget," chucked Anatole.

Anatole only passively looked over the small dwelling though his eyes wandered wallpapers and floors, not where one might find anything treasonous. Sybill wondered if this was intentional as his comrade searched tables and counters.

"He is a joy," Sybill smiled, trying to maintain a casual air.

Anatole faced Cosette. "I apologize, Mademoiselle, we have not been acquainted."

"How forgetful of me, this is my sister," Sybill introduced, "Mademoiselle Cosette Fauchelevent."

"A pleasure," Anatole bowed. "Monsieur Anatole Lamarque at your service, Mademoiselle."

"Delighted to meet you, monsieur," Cosette responded, her voice coming out shaky. Sybill noticed how fearful her sister appeared and sought to take more ownership of the inquiry.

"Good monsieur, please think me not impudent, but may I inquire of the nature of the materials of which you seek?" boldly Sybill countered, addressing Anatole. "I assure we have nothing here."

The other solider stopped his search at the question. "That is private, Mademoiselle," he responded with a coolness.

"Quite right, please forgive me," Sybill said, ducking her head to avoid his gaze. "You both are free to search. We shall stay out of your way and out of your sight."

Sybill gestured for Cosette to follow her into Gavroche's room. The two moved inside and began to shut the door when a boot blocked it. Sybill's eyes shot upward in fear. "Monsieur—"

"We have not yet searched this room, Mademoiselle," the soldier countered.

The room was dark save for the bed occupied by Gavroche. Sybill knew there was no way the young boy slept though he did not move from the bed.

Smart thing, Sybill thought.

"Of course, soldier," Sybill relented. "If I may be so bold as to beg you to search this room quietly as our charge does sleep soundly. We worry for the stress this may cause him."

Anatole stood behind his fellow soldier as the man walked deeper into the room, stepping around Cosette and Sybill. Anatole noticed a pair of male boots, far too large to be a child's, by a wardrobe. He noticed a piece of parchment sticking underneath the very wardrobe as if it was quickly being concealed. As his partner looked towards the other side of the room, Anatole stooped to pick up the page so swiftly that Sybill and Cosette did not notice. He pocketed the paper before clearing his throat.

"Pierre, I do believe we should vacate the room and the household," Anatole announced. "These two sisters have nothing to hide that should shame our great King."

The soldier, Pierre, turned to look at Anatole. As a higher-ranking officer, Pierre had no choice but to obey a commander's order. Besides, two lone sisters and a child were hardly the treasonous revolutionaries and anarchists the men sought to bring to justice. In the dark, Pierre nodded and led the way out of the bedroom followed by Anatole and the two Fauchelevent girls. Sybill shut the door behind her, her head swimming with the realization that her father must have hid himself within the wardrobe that Anatole stood beside mere moments ago. And his boots he left out three days ago... How could two soldiers miss though?

"A good evening to you both," said Anatole, bidding them farewell from the front door. "Pray forgive us of the frightful visit. God save you both."

"Thank you, monsieur," both girls mumbled simultaneously with a bow.

The men left without another word and Sybill shut the front door tightly. She quickly put a finger to her lips and held Cosette upright with her other hand, sensing her sister wanted to collapse and discuss the fearful encounter at once.

Instead, Sybill whispered into her ear, "We shall stay silent for half past an hour. Then we shall fetch Papa from the wardrobe. I do suppose we all have need of a talk, but I fear what others may overhear."