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( june 1832 )
WHEN THE SUN BEGAN to set over the horizon, Corinne, dressed in Lucien's clothes with her fiery hair tucked beneath a hat, sneaked out of the house through the door in the scullery. She made her way around the property and waited for Enjolras behind an old maple tree in the front garden.
He would leave around the same time every evening— after dinner, when everyone else would begin preparing to retire to their chambers for the night— so it was easy to know when to expect him. Sure enough, the front door swung open just after sunset, and she saw him step out of the home. He was dressed in the same red tailcoat that he'd been wearing during the rally, though now it was casually unbuttoned with a dark-colored cravat hanging loosely around his neck. He had a stack of books tucked beneath his arm as he moved across the garden, his pace brisk.
Corinne waited until after he'd left the property to slide out from behind the tree. Making sure to keep some distance between them, she followed after him. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as they walked; she didn't want to follow too closely, but at the same time, she knew that she had to keep him in her sight. The city of Paris was large, and the last thing she wanted was to be alone so late into the evening.
At one point, Enjolras paused just long enough to give a woman and her two small children a handful of francs from his pocket. He said something to them, too quiet for Corinne to overhear from the distance she kept, but his words caused a small smile to spread across the mother's face. She cupped his hands and squeezed them. Her eyes, which had previously been dull with exhaustion, shone brightly in the darkness.
Corinne wondered what Enjolras said to elicit such a response. Her heart tightened fondly in her chest as the mother and children watched him go; whatever he did say did wonders to lift their spirits.
It wasn't long after this that they reached a building that was familiar to Corinne: the old, dilapidated cafe with the name Musain carved above the door. It was where Enjolras left her after he'd rescued her from the angry baker she'd stolen from. Warm light flooded through the windows of the quaint establishment. She could hear the voices of customers inside, telling her that it was still busy despite the late hour.
Enjolras stepped inside the building and closed the door behind him. Corinne waited just outside, not wanting to draw any attention to herself by entering immediately after him. She counted to ten in her mind; then, just as she noticed a group of men noisily heading in her direction from a nearby tavern, she slipped inside.
Immediately, she was engulfed in a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The cafe was fairly small, with about a dozen tables spread out across the space. A bar was in the far corner beside a closed door that led to another part of the building. An old, dusty piano sat untouched in the other corner. People crowded around her, talking noisily over delicious-smelling soup or glasses of ale; she began to search their faces for the one that she was looking for.
