Memoirs of Les Amis de l'ABC

Chapter Fourteen: A Cloud Between the Sun and the Moon

It was the afternoon of Friday, September thirtieth of 1831 when Sybill Fauchelevent and Monsieur Courfeyrac sat at the edge of a familiar fountain together. They were chaperoning a picnic of Marius and Cosette's. The first couple, however, had not prepared as extensively as the two before them. Courfeyrac and Sybill sat on a shabby, wooden bench that was directed towards the great marble fountain that had not run in years. Marius and Cosette were at the fountain's edge with a wide assortment of food while the two on the bench had a loaf of bread that Sybill had taken in her basket.

The girls met the men at the fountain where Marius had been impatiently pacing to and fro and to and fro while Courfeyrac was pretending to read a newspaper. He was only pretending to read as he was also eagerly awaiting the arrival of Sybill Fauchelevent meaning the words held his attention for no point of time at all.

"What is that?" Sybill inquired gently as she sat upon the bench beside the man. Something on the back of the newspaper had struck her attention. Courfeyrac looked at the paper that he had set down upon her arrival and picked it up to search it as she pointed to an announcement on the back. "That - there on the paper. What is that advertisement?"

Courfeyrac turned the paper to see what the girl was staring at. "Oh, 'tis nothing," he replied with a shrug. "It's an advert from General Lamarque to find that author of those pro-revolution essays for an interview. The man has written three in totality now, and more and more people have been reading them. I daresay, however, that our little Monsieur Amon Y. Mercier devil would never dare attend such a public meeting with old Lamarque."

"I fancy you're entirely right," mumbled Sybill. "The dear chap would never do something so bold as that."

"Although Lamarque is a member of our camp on the mountainous climb to liberty," mused Courfeyrac with a poetic air. He considered it before shaking his head. "No, I think it is a task for fools. Considering no one can find a man with such a name as Amon Y. Mercier, I daresay his name is a fraud."

Sybill bit her lip and her body stiffened. "They have been looking, then, for this man?"

"Yes, of course," Courfeyrac nodded quickly. "Have you not received a knock upon your door?"

"No," Sybill shook her head.

"Oh, let me explain it so you are not frozen with fright when the time comes," Courfeyrac said casually. "The National Guard has been knocking upon each door in these little neighborhoods and has been searching for any mention of Monsieur Amon Y. Mercier. Surely, the man shall hang for treason once he is found out."

Sybill's breath hitched. "It is quite a dangerous task of which he has undertaken."

"It is," chuckled Courfeyrac. "Though I suppose planning an actual revolution as opposed to merely writing of one is an even more dangerous task. When the time comes despite his words, I sense that our great author shall not bear arms with us."

"Maybe it will outwardly be so," conceded Sybill. "Though I do believe that perhaps the man shall show."

Courfeyrac smirked. "Would you wish to challenge me on this front?"

Sybill chuckled. "I wish to challenge you," the girl asserted. "Though I do not know how we will possibly find a resolution to this...this duel." 

"I shall meet him at the barricades, and report back to you as soon as possible," replied Courfeyrac as if it were obvious. "That is all that it takes."

"How do you know the gentleman will divulge his identity so readily?" questioned Sybill. "He might wish to keep it a secret until his dying breath."