FLIGHT OF ICARUS, enjolras

16. remember the fallen

FLIGHT OF ICARUS
act three, chapter sixteen

. . . . .

( july 1832 )

THE OLD SERVANT NAMED Fabien came to Corinne one morning while she was tending to the plants in the sun room. He was dressed as though he'd been out in the city– a navy cravat tucked into a dark waistcoat and a top hat clutched in his hands– and, much to her dismay, he seemed rather sorrowful.

Corinne paused her sweeping to look at him worriedly. "Are you well, monsieur?" she asked him.

"The comrades of Monsieur Enjolras," Fabien began, "They have been buried, and I've only just returned from seeking out their gravesite. I wished to pay my respects."

Corinne straightened at this. "Is it far from here?"

The servant shook his head. "An hour's walk or so– faster with a carriage. Someone has paid for them to be buried in Cimetière du Père Lachaise." He paused, then, as though reading her mind, said: "I believe Monsieur Enjolras should pay a visit once he is fit enough. He hasn't had the chance to mourn them properly, and I think he'd be pleased to see his comrades memorialized."

Corinne agreed whole-heartedly. With each day that passed, Enjolras grew stronger both physically and mentally, and Fabien was right. He deserved a chance to mourn his fallen friends properly. A journey into the city, she decided, would do him some good.

All she had to do was find a way to cross the city to Cimetière du Père Lachaise without either of them being seen.

. . . . .

"Corinne, I wish that you would tell me what you are scheming," Enjolras said, standing beside her while she eagerly waited near the front door.

The setting sun was shining through the large front windows of the manor. She wanted to wait until it was near dark before heading out into the city, for the lack of lighting would make it more difficult for anyone to recognize Enjolras as a thought-to-be-dead revolutionary, but his persistent questioning was making it difficult to remain patient. Ever since she fetched him from his bedroom without any explanation, he was desperate to know what she was— in his words— scheming.

Looking over at him, she bit back a laugh upon finding him watching her with what could only be described as pleading eyes. "And I wish that you'd stop asking so many questions and simply trust me," she retorted.

Enjolras frowned unhappily. "I do trust you... but I do not like how secretive you are being right now."

Before she was able to respond, the front door swung open, and Lucien stepped inside. Corinne glanced over his shoulder to find the family's carriage waiting in front of the house, two large stallions restlessly clapping their hooves against the stones beneath them. She looked back at the valet and asked: "Are we ready?"