ADIEU » LES MISÉRABLES | ✓

CHAPTER NINE

"Do you wish to be a part of us, mademoiselle?"

Claudine blinked, glancing around the room only to realize that most of the men had already left, save for Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac. She was suddenly aware that it was late - far too late - and a deep uneasiness seeped into her bones. She liked the night, but only when she was at home with her father. When she felt safe.

"You seem to be very intent on staying here, attending our meetings and listening to what we have to say," Combeferre explained lightly, "unlike Éponine, who left immediately after seeing that Marius wasn't here."

"If you do intend on staying, please make yourself useful," Enjolras continued. "Everyone in the Les Amis de l'ABC contributes to the making of the revolution in one way or another. Is there anything you have a particular ability for?"

Claudine deeply considered this for a moment. "I can ride a horse," she replied slowly, her dark eyes wide and serious.

The left corner of Enjolras's mouth curved up into something that resembled a slight, reluctant smile. He ducked his head to hide it, but Claudine still caught a small glimpse of it. It looked more like a scoff than a smile from her angle, however, and she instantly regretted speaking. 

Of course being able to ride a horse wouldn't be beneficial to the revolution in any way. Enjolras was asking if I could speak, or write, or read, but I can't. I can only ride a horse.

"You can help to clean the rifles," Courfeyrac offered.

"I don't think I'm deserving of a place in this society if that's all I do."

"You are." Enjolras's face was impassive, but he spoke with truth and authority. "You saved me from the gendarmes. You showed me the lives of the poor. That's enough. You are worthy of becoming one of us."

Claudine did not know what to say to that. Her, worthy? Would she still be worthy to them if they knew she was a gypsy, that she was wanted by the gendarmes, and would potentially ruin their precious little revolution? That was what she hated about most people - how they instantly shunned her for a label attached to her from birth, something she couldn't help.

"You look a little distressed," Combeferre said kindly. "Is something troubling you?"

She fidgeted, her left hand twisting at the bracelet around her wrist. "It's getting late. My father will be worried."

"We're terribly sorry for holding you back. Can you give us an answer before you leave?"

"Will you join in our crusade?" Courfeyrac added, for dramatic effect, holding out a hand.

"Yes," Claudine blurted out. It was, despite everything, what she had wanted all along. She placed her hand in Courfeyrac's, and he shook it happily. The candlelight flickered across his smooth cheek, and all of a sudden he looked impossibly young, like a child. 

Something clutched at Claudine's heart. They were children, all of them. 

"I'll walk you home," Enjolras said firmly, breaking the silence.

___

She was panicking. It was apparent even under the dim moonlight. "I can walk home myself, monsieur. I don't want to trouble you too much."

Her voice was stilted and rushed. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet like she was fighting some urge to take flight. She was so anxious it was almost stupid. It wasn't as if he was going to stalk her or use the knowledge of where she lived against her in any way. It did not make sense for her to be scared of him - if she walked home alone in the dark, she would be prone to unspeakable dangers that lay in wait for her in the murky Parisian streets.

She didn't strike him as the type to get crippled by excessive and unreasonable anxiety, but there she was, pale and restless. She couldn't keep still for even a second, and her slender fingers drummed against her thigh, delicate and almost ethereal in the moonlight.

"Stop." 

Enjolras, in a surge of annoyance, moved forward and grasped her wrist, making her body turn rigid. Her skin was cold.

"You're being irrational. Paris is dangerous at night. Would you really rather risk yourself to those dangers than trust me?"

"It's not like that. It's not about trust-" 

"Then for god's sake, mademoiselle, what is it about?"

She looked up. They were so close he could see the fear swirling in her dark eyes, bare and exposed. Startled, she backed away, but he kept his hold on her wrist.

"I - I can't tell you where I live. You would..."

"I would what?" Enjolras snapped, but did not give her time to answer. "I would not do anything your over-imaginative mind is making up right now. You're being paranoid, mademoiselle."

"No. I just can't. I can find my way back from the Bastille Elephant, just like last time-"

"It's dark. You got lost the last time, and that was in broad daylight."

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't know how to get there." She bit her lip immediately after she said this, like it was something she wasn't supposed to say. 

Cold. Why was she so cold?

Enjolras snorted. "I've lived in Paris all my life, mademoiselle."

"Alright."

He blinked. "What?"

"I'll tell you where I live. The... the Rue Plumet."

She was being strange. The Rue Plumet was a perfectly normal place to live in, and every Parisian knew where it was. He did not at all understand why she had been so opposed to telling him this earlier.

Sighing, he let go of her hand. "I don't see why you had to kick up such a huge fuss about it."

She swallowed. "I'm... just not used to disclosing information about myself." 

He glanced over at her. There was still something that wasn't quite right. 

"So, Monsieur Enjolras," she began, her tone forced and unnaturally coy. He wasn't sure if he liked this change. "I have one small request to make."

"What?" 

"That you stop calling me mademoiselle. It makes me want to laugh whenever you say it in that aggrieved tone of yours." She was trying to put herself at ease with small talk, and it wasn't working. Why was she still not at ease?

"Alright."

"Can I call you Enjolras?"

"Yes, you may."

"Thank you."

"We've reached the Rue Plumet. You must be very tired."

"Yes," she said, pausing to rub her eyes furiously. Enjolras thought the movement was a little too exaggerated. "Good night, Enjolras."

He gave her a perfunctory parting nod and walked away.

Thirty steps later, he looked back and saw a sudden flicker of movement near the building. Squinting, he looked again, but there was nothing else.

He was tired. It had to be the moonlight playing tricks on his eyes.

___

[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ]

Happy belated Barricade Day to everyone! Hope you guys had a blast drowning in your sorrows while looking at heartbreaking Barricade Day posts on Tumblr, because I sure did!

Stay gold,
Nat 🍃