Rhetoric (Tag: Combeferre)

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

She wasn't even sure what had fired her pride this time around. Some stray careless comment, probably misinterpreted. And she had stood up, quietly excusing herself. She doubted Marius even noticed, caught up as he was in thoughts of his beloved. Still as she walked by a table near the wall, she spied a stack of books on the corner. And a thought sprang to her mind. She would never be pretty like Cosette, or refined, or demure. But she could read a little already, even told Marius on more than one occasion that she could have been a student. Perhaps if she had the knowledge that he and his friends had, she might receive one of those smiles he seemed to reserve for talking about Cosette. So carefully, she slid the top books off the stack, wrapping her arm around it to hide it and making a mental note to return it to the table tomorrow night. Maybe they wouldn't miss it, they had so many anyway.

And so with as little noise as possible, she had slipped out into the night with the book tucked protectively against her chest. Getting out of the noisy meeting unnoticed was the easy part. Finding a place to read, was another all together. The alleys were out of the question, although Eponine must preferred them. The light from the street lamps never seemed to dispel the darkness that lived in them. It's not that Eponine feared the dark, far from it. She'd lived more of the last few years of her life in the dark than in the bright light of day. Darkness may hold dangers for others, but for Eponine it was home. Still, it didn't make for easy reading. Only a few blocks down the street, Eponine found a lamp on a seemingly abandoned stretch of pavement. Looking about cautiously, she backed herself up to the building in the pool of light. Like a rabbit entering a clearing she checked all around her before finally daring to look at the book she had swiped.

The cover was a well worn brown, with black block print on the spine. She turned it sideways, trying to get a good look at the title as she slid down to sit against the wall. Eponine prided herself on her ability to read and write since not many in her station could, but the words aloud the edge of the book were foreign to her, too long and too many letters in odd combinations. She frowned and opened to a random page, hoping to find something that made some sense, something she could memorize and absorb to spout back out to dazzle Marius and his friends when they next met. And again, the words seemed another language to her. She recognized a word here an there, but the rest were beyond her. Remembering how her mother had taught her in the first place, she started to read aloud quietly. "We must also notice the ends which the various forms of gov- govern- government pursue, since people choose in practice such actions as will lead to the re- al- i-za- tion, realization of their ends. The end of d-democracy is freedom; of olig-" Eponine let out a frustrated groan and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall, defeatedly. I'm never going to pick this up.

[Deleted]

Combeferre took a sip of his tea as he listened to yet another one of Grantaire’s drunken—and highly inappropriate—jokes with mild interest. Their meeting had started off with a plan to rouse the people of Paris to the plight of the poor and drifted off subject rather quickly. It frustrated him whenever their discussions got off topic and coasted into frivolity—he knew that Enjolras was often annoyed when it happened as well, and thankfully he usually managed to steer them back on track with his masterful oratory. He leaned his arm on the table and drummed his fingers against it, pausing in his drumming to check his pocket watch. It was getting late, and if they were not going to do anything productive, then he was going to return to his flat.

His attention was diverted from Grantaire’s antics when he heard the door close. He sat up a little to see who had left. The girl who frequented the café with Marius was missing—so help me, I will remember—Evelyn, Ep…Eponine, that was it. She seemed to have left in a hurry. The medical student cleared his throat and stood up, pushing in his chair. “Well, that was a lovely evening but I’m afraid I really must get back to my studies. Good night to all of you.” he announced with a nod before heading over to the table where he had left his books. His reasons for leaving were twofold—one, he did want to go home and read, and two, perhaps he would catch up with Marius’s friend. It was out of a sense of chivalry partially he supposed—no one really, let alone a lady, should have been walking the streets alone at this hour—and since he was so focused on bringing equality to the French people, it would be prudent of him to ask the opinion of someone who would actually be affected by the changes they wanted to put into place. If he did not catch her in time, that was fine—he simply wanted to escape the madness going on inside the café.

He started packing his books into the brown satchel he had brought with him, but paused in surprise when he could not find Rhetoric. “Aristotle?” he muttered worriedly, as if the book could hear him. He shook his head at his childish reaction and sifted through the tomes for the missing volume. It was nowhere to be found. He checked under the table to no avail. Perhaps he had dropped it on the way there? He slung the satchel over his shoulder and pulled on his flat cap as he left the building, retracing his steps from the flat to the café.

He needed to find that book—he had planned on going through it tonight to help with his public speaking. Of course he would never be as good as Enjolras, but there was always room for improvement. He was excellent at debating and presenting points and counterpoints, but speaking for long lengths of time to a crowd was not exactly his strong suit. He could lecture on philosophy—in fact he did while studying at the university—but that was nothing like what was needed to convince people that there needed to be a fundamental change in the French government.

He was staring at the ground for any sign of the book when he heard a feminine voice speaking. He looked around, wondering if he was being spoken to, but it did not seem like it. When he actually started listening, the words sounded awfully familiar—Aristotle! He ran in the direction of the voice and stopped when his azure eyes fell upon a young woman struggling to get through his Rhetoric. It was then that he realized that she must have taken the book—and the girl was none other than Eponine. Whatever indignation he might have felt was replaced by admiration at the fact that someone else actually appreciated his books, let alone a woman—not that he did not believe that women were not capable of appreciating literature, he just had not met any who had, or at least, yet. It should be noted that the feeling of admiration was a rare emotion for Blaise Combeferre. “Of oligarchy, wealth; of aristocracy, the maintenance of education and national institutions; of tyranny, the protection of the tyrant.” he quoted from memory, making his presence known as he approached her, taking off his hat. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m glad to see someone else has an interest in Aristotle.” he commented with a modest smile. “I don’t think we’ve been formerly introduced—you are Eponine, correct? My name is Blaise Combeferre.”

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

As she heard the voice, Eponine's eyes flew open and she scrambled to her feet, her limbs tangling on her tattered skirt. Her fingers fumbled with the book, trying to keep it from tumbling to the ground. She'd been caught. Pressing herself tightly against the wall, her mind raced over her options. It had been a while since she had been caught stealing red-handed, but already her whole body was in fight or flight mode. She could hear her heart thrumming in her ears as her brown eyes darted about the street. Fight wasn't really an option. Her small body could not hold its own against a healthy young man, and in the event she was recognized, she could never explain to Marius why she had attacked his friend after stealing from them. Running might be a better idea, but something told her, he already knew who she was. Her stomach knotted as the young blonde stepped up to her, cap in hand, and spoke her name. He knew her, beyond that he had seen her before. He knew her name. Her brown eyes were wide with apprehension.

That only left a third course of action. Return the book and pray he didn't report her. The words spilled out of her quickly and with hardly a breath between. "Je suis désolé, Monsieur! I didn't mean any harm. I only wanted to read some. I can read, you know? I was going to return it. I swear! Here!" She thrust the book out in front her, gripping it with both hands. She waited for the indignation and disdain and anger that usually came with a victim confronting a thief, for him to yank the book back and stare her down as he called for the police. But it never came. He simply smiled at her, holding his flat cap in his hand, and introduced himself, as if speaking to a lady. For moment, Eponine was stunned. It had been a long time since someone had worried about being formally introduced to her, and she had never had her thievery greeted with such friendliness. More often than not it led to bruises and scrapes and sprinting through the street until she thought her lungs might burst. But now this young man with blonde hair and blue eyes was smiling at her. It all added up to her taking a few moments to process what he had said and find her own voice.

"I- Yes. I'm Eponine. I've seen you at the meetings." It wasn't a lie. Eponine picked up on all sorts of things just by observing the Amis at their meetings. Enjolras was the chief, the passionate leader. Courfeyrac was the center, bringing the heart and enthusiasm to the group. And people called Combeferre the guide. It was obvious even in the few meetings she had been to that Combeferre was the logical, moral leader, second only to Enjolras. More often than not he seemed to have his nose stuck in a book, so it came as no surprise to her that the book she had taken was his. What she didn't understand though was why he wasn't angry or even a little upset. Why was he smiling at her? Deep down a voice warned her it could be a trap, a ruse to get her to lower her guard. "Again, I'm so sorry, Monsieur Combeferre."

[Deleted]

Combeferre was taken aback by the young woman’s reaction to him. “Did I startle you? I’m sorry…” he apologized with a slight bow of his head. He supposed he had snuck up on her, so it made perfect sense for her to be alarmed. “I just wanted…well I was leaving the café anyway but I saw you left and I wanted to be sure you’d gotten home alright. Since we were both leaving…at the same time…” His eyebrows knit together during his rambling and for not the first time he wished he had the eloquence of Enjolras. He was not the most outgoing person in the world—far from it—and this was probably a new record for him. His conversations with women—and most of the women he had spoken to were at Courfeyrac’s insistence—lasted an average of thirty seconds each.

Thankfully she spoke again before he had a chance to embarrass himself further. Flaxen eyebrows knit together yet again, this time in confusion. She was…apologizing? He realized that she had technically stolen from him, but Combeferre thought nothing of it. Of course he would have preferred she had asked first, but it was a minor sin at most, it was not as if he was angry. How could he be angry? The poor girl probably didn’t own many books if any, and he had tons—one little book, was nothing to get upset about. Of course normally Combeferre was very protective of the books he owned, but in this case, he could make an exception. This time, compassion outweighed possessiveness.

She talked so quickly that he had to take a moment to absorb all that she had said. “No…no, no there’s no need to be sorry—I mean, I would have let you borrow it if you had just asked, but really, it’s fine.” Combeferre answered, waving a hand. “Do you like reading?” he asked, his voice still perfectly gentle. He was impressed with the fact that she could read—not many of her class could. He was further impressed with her apparent desire to acquire more knowledge. He blinked in surprise as she held the book out to him. “Are you sure—I mean, you…you can finish if you’d like, I don’t need it back.” he replied, looking down at the book and then at her. She looked so afraid of him…did she think he was going to report her? For a book? “Mademoiselle, do not be afraid of me, I’m not going to tell anyone.” he assured her, offering her a smile again to emphasize the fact that he meant her no harm.

What did one do when they met a lady? For once he wished he had not tuned out on Courfeyrac’s attempts to teach him how to socialize properly with the fairer sex—then again, all he’d been doing was trying to get him to take a lover, and that wouldn’t help him at all with introductions. Instead he thought back to the times before university when his parents tried to drag him off to their parties where he met his father’s law partners’ children. “A pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle.” he responded with a slight bow as he held out his hand.

“A lot of things have been said at the meetings…what do you think of, well, of what we’re planning?” Combeferre inquired, raising an eyebrow. He had never once heard her speak—at least not on the subject of their meetings—at the meetings. Perhaps she had and he had not noticed, but he was curious to know what opinion she had of them. Her views were as important as theirs—perhaps even more important, because their efforts were designed to help people like her. “Oh…oh, please don’t call me that, Monsieur Combeferre is my father.” he stated with a slight smile. “Just Combeferre is fine, everyone else calls me that—unless of course you’d prefer we spoke on formal terms, Mademoiselle…” His eyebrows furrowed once more when he realized he did not know her last name. “Mademoiselle Eponine?”

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Eponine blinked at him as he bowed to her, hand out. Part of her believed him to be mocking her, for who truly bowed to someone in her station. Montparnasse had a few times, but it was always part of his games, playing at being a gentleman. She remembered her father bowing to her before dancing with her as a child. But this didn't hold the predatory air of 'Parnasse's gesture nor the playful nature of her father's. Her face screwed up as she tried to read Combeferre's features. His blonde hair, mussed from where he had pulled his cap off, hung down to his collar and brushed the tops of his eyebrows. Beneath them, his blue eyes seemed genuinely kind and full of concern. A warm smile graced his face, almost timidly. Whether it really was sincere or she was reading him wrong remained to be seen. She hoped it was the former.

When he did not take his book back, offering to let her keep it for now, Eponine was even more shocked. Most of what she had read was her mother's books and they were nothing trash novels. The kind that would make a young man like Combeferre blush and would not lend themselves well to debating the revolution at hand. "I- Thank you, Monsieur. I do not wish to keep it should to need it back." Honestly, she hardly understood even the short passage she had been able to read. It would do her no good to memorize something she didn't understand in an effort to prove her own intelligence. Any questions posed to her would immediately reveal her borrowed knowledge. She looked from the book to Combeferre again, squaring her shoulders proudly. "Yes, I do enjoy reading. Quite a lot actually. My mother taught me. I can write some too." Eponine held her meager education in high esteem, believing it might just separate her from the life she was leading. It could be the key out of the streets. And the looks of amazement she got from people when they found out both amused and irritated her.

However, once the adrenaline from getting caught began to wear off, his words became clearer to Eponine. He had followed her? To walk her home? Like she was some fragile little thing, not fit to wander the streets after dark. She wasn't sure what upset her more. That he had deeply underestimated her ability to take care of herself on her own. Or that he had now put her in the position of having to admit she didn't have a home to walk to, at least not one she wanted to return to. Her temper rose a degree, heating her face as she desperately tried to remind herself that this was Marius's friend. That he meant no harm. That he was only trying to be a gentleman. When fumbled his words under her gaze, she softened momentarily. She took a deep breath and addressed him evenly, the apprehension gone from her voice. "That's very kind of you, Monsieur. But I do not require assistance. I do not fear the streets after dark. And it's just Eponine. I am no Mademoiselle."

"As for your plans, I think it best I not comment. I fear you would not like my opinion." Instantly, Eponine regretted letting her temper outpace her tongue. She had never let her negative opinion of the Amis plans slip before. Not even to Marius. She teased him about overthrowing the state, but never told him she held slim hope that they could. The people were just too afraid and the government simply too powerful. But it was too late to take those words back now.

[Deleted]

Combeferre shifted uncomfortably under her gaze as she scrutinized him, and then awkwardly dropped his hand to his side when he realized that she was not going to take it. He scratched his head and looked around, trying to think if he had done anything wrong. As far as he knew, he was acting the perfect gentleman, and he was not exactly a stranger. They had seen each other before because they had a mutual friend, they just had never spoken. He was about to mutter another apology before going on his way home, kicking himself mentally for his ineptitude, but she then declined his offer to borrow the book. He took it back from her when she handed it to him, and ran his hand over the cover before glancing up at her again. “Are you not interested in Aristotle, then? I have plenty of books, mademoiselle—I daresay my study has turned into a library.” he stated with a slight chuckle. “If there’s anything you would like to borrow, I could bring it to you, if you’d like.” he offered with an eagerness in his voice that he almost didn’t quite recognize. He supposed he was just excited about another person having some degree of curiosity about education.

“You do?” His eyes brightened at her response affirming that she did indeed enjoy reading. “So do I, actually—er, well, I suppose since you’ve been to the meetings, you already knew that…but that’s wonderful, I have someone else to discuss literature with!” he exclaimed with a genuinely gleeful smile. His smile faded at her refusal to let him accompany her on the way home. He could tell that he must have said or done something to insult her, because although her tone was calm, it seemed rather strained. And whatever did she mean that she wasn’t a mademoiselle? Was not every woman a mademoiselle? He was perfectly aware of women at the docks, but he believed that all women regardless of circumstance deserved respect, and that’s what he was trying to give her—respect where it was due. “Eponine, then. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything you might deem offensive, forgive me.”

He tilted his head at her reply to his question about the content of the ABC meetings. “No, I’d like to—I can handle criticism, ma-Eponine, believe me. Plus I think it would be valuable for me—for all of us—to hear an outsider’s opinion of our movement. What are we doing right, what are we doing wrong? What do you agree with and what don’t you agree with? Could I…could I at least walk you home so we could talk about this on the way? Please? I’d very much like to hear what you think on the subject, honestly.”

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Seeing the awkward way Combeferre fidgeted before her, Eponine's temper diffused, cooling until nothing but shame was left. She had had no right to snap at him like she did, he had done nothing wrong, only sought to offer assistance to one he saw in need. That was hardly something that warranted the cold reception she'd given him. She was surprised to blonde hadn't simply turned on his heel and left her the on the street alone, nursing her wounded pride. But he didn't, which to Eponine's mind made him a much better person than herself. This is why people like this don't give you a second look. Why Marius doesn't see you as more than a friend. Her shoulders dropped an inch or two as the anger and indignation seeped out of her. "I'm sorry, Mon- Combeferre. I did not mean to be so cross." As he took his book back, Eponine clasped her hands in front of her threadbare skirt, unable to think of what else to occupy them. The street light above them felt like a spotlight, illuminating their exchange for all the world to see. She suddenly felt very exposed and crossed her arms across her chest protectively.

"Oh, it's not that I didn't care for it." Eponine shook her head, mentally filing the word Aristotle away as a word to learn. "I could not ask you to lend me any books." Did she admit to him that his books were likely beyond her understanding? That for all her posturing, she was still far below his education level. Her pride wouldn't allow her say the words. "I wouldn't want to get them filthy," she said spreading her hands in front of her. It was easier to admit her grimy state than her inferior intellect to this young revolutionary.

Combeferre seemed set on walking her home, despite her protests. Thinking quickly, Eponine nodded, speaking quietly. "Very well. It's Number 25 Rue Saint-Denis." She of course did not live in the small house, but Combeferre didn't know that. Nor did he need to. Thus far, Eponine had done a decent job of hiding her living arrangements, or lack there of, from Marius and his friends, and she intended to keep it that way. She didn't want their looks of pity or their charity. With one hand she gestured down the street and cleared her throat. "It's down there."

"Are you sure you really want to hear what I think?" Her stomach knotted at the thought of spilling out all she had been holding in during the meetings she'd attended. She'd held her tongue and her opinions in check, thinking they would offend Marius's friends. But she may not have a choice now.

[Deleted]

“Don’t apologize, I was insensitive. It’s perfectly alright, Eponine.” Combeferre answered with a nod. By now he had worked out that he had somehow insulted her in some way, and for that he was truly sorry. He thought nothing of her reaction, and only berated himself for making it seem as if he were in some way trying to appear superior. They were all members of the human race, were they not? Superiority was something Combeferre did not wish to assert over anyone, let alone this girl who obviously did have a head on her shoulders, unlike the—for lack of a better word—airheads his mother and father tried to set him up with every time he came to visit. He had been making excuses lately for not visiting just to avoid his mother’s attempts at playing matchmaker.

“Was…” He paused to collect his thoughts and consider how he wanted to word what he was going to say—for he did not want to offend her any further than he had. He had heard her stumble a few words when he arrived upon the scene of her reading his book, but he had chosen not to bring it up until now. “Was it because it was difficult reading? I found Aristotle quite nonsensical the first time I tried to get through it, but with practice, it becomes much easier.” he stated as mildly as he could. “I could help if you did want to read the rest. Please do not misunderstand my meaning, Eponine. The fact that you even wanted to read it is admirable in itself. I don’t know many people besides myself who would want to read that book for leisure.” he commended her with another smile.

The smile faded at her next words, and he blinked in shock at what she had told him. She was worried about getting his books dirty? “Nonsense.” he answered immediately, shaking his head vigorously. “You shall have any book in my library that you’d like. I have great respect for anyone who decides to further their education, Eponine, and you are no exception.” Combeferre replied truthfully. He could care less how dirty she was. He was more than happy to lend out his books to her, and it was not simply because he considered it the right thing to do—which it most certainly was. He truly did admire her for going to such great lengths to further her knowledge. He hoped he communicated that fact well enough. He would hate to be the cause of distress again. If only he were more eloquent, more used to this sort of thing. "My only condition is that you allow me to discuss with you your opinion of what it is you choose to read every now and then."

His smile returned when she told him where she lived, and he set his hat on his head again. “Well, then, shall we be off?” he asked cheerily. He knew quite well that this was the poorest section of Paris. In fact, he passed through the section nearly every day on the way to class—even though the easiest route did not run through the area—in order to hand out alms and bread. He contemplated offering her his arm, but figured she would probably be off put by this and simply left it at his side.

“Yes, I would—we need something to talk about, don’t we? I can’t stand walking in silence.” Not that he did any of his walking with other people, let alone women. “Our philosophical ideals just seemed to be the most convenient subject.” he joked with a half-smile. “In all seriousness, yes, I would like to know. I would like to hear from someone who isn’t biased either way—in other words someone other than Grantaire or Enjolras—what our strengths and what our problems are. What are we overlooking? I know that our plan isn’t perfect, I’m not too much of an idealist not to know that, but I do believe with all my heart that something needs to be done about all this.” he stated, gesturing to the scenery around them. “There is something legitimately wrong with the king living like, well, a king, and people like me getting all the things we do just because our parents are rich while the majority of the people of Paris--and really, not just Paris, the country in general--live like this. It makes me angry because it doesn’t have to be this way. It shouldn't be this way.” he answered, his fists clenching at the end of his miniature speech. “I’m sorry, I got carried away as usual—which is why Enjolras is the orator and not me.” he apologized with a self-deprecating chuckle.

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Leaving the pool of light with Combeferre, Eponine pulled her ragged shawl back up over her bare shoulders. It did little to hide the dirt and grime upon them nor disguise the sharp line of the bones jutting up from her thin form. At the very least it wasn't cold, the summer finally beginning to set in. And for that Eponine has thankful. She was taken aback by how Combeferre apologized to her. Hadn't she stolen from him? Hadn't she scolded him in a moment of injured vanity? And yet here he asked forgiveness for offending her, called himself insensitive. Eponine wasn't sure what to make of the student. She stole a tentative glance at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked. He had replaced his cap, which flattened his hair atop his head. His clothes were fine quality, his family obviously wealthy. Eponine mused how much food she could buy with the money these students spent on their clothes and books.

They walked in silence for a few moments, each passing second making Eponine more and more uncomfortable. She was about to make some idle small talk about the warm weather or some other thing that she was sure the bourgeois considered polite conversation when Combeferre spoke up. She supposed it was pretty clear she could not read the book she had taken. He had even had to finish the passage she was reading aloud after she gave up midway through. There was no sense in denying it. "Oui, Monsieur. It was difficult. But I could not ask you for your help. I cannot pay you."

What he stated next nearly stopped her in her tracks. She looked over at him, her face a mix of astonishment and irritation. She wasn't sure if she should be overjoyed that someone commended her for her ability and desire to read or angered that he was willing to simply give her books for only intellectual discourse in return. It reeked too much of charity to Eponine, something she could not stand. It made her feel indebted to the giver every time, as if she owed them something in return. And too many times in her life, being in someone's debt had led to more pain and misery than she cared to remember. And yet, this could be her chance to a student, like she had asserted to Marius so many times. Oh how he would see her once she could hold her own in the discussions among his friends! Her mind wandered to a hazy future where Marius, amazed at her intelligence, finally saw her as more than a friend. Overcome with this vision, she nodded to Combeferre. "Very well. I accept. On one condition. I must pay for these lessons in some way."

As he spoke of the decay of the standard of living of the poorest of Paris, Eponine spied his hands clenching in anger. He spoke with an ardor, not the same vehemence or eloquence as Enjolras. But no one could accuse Combeferre of being cold to the cause. Still he couldn't possibly know what it was like for the least of the people of France. Perhaps that's why her opinion meant so much to him. No one had so much as hinted that they wanted to know what Eponine thought of the planned revolution. She had ideas no doubt, but never shared them. Now in the darkened streets of Rue Saint-Denis, she raked her hair back, frowning as her hand caught in the grimy tangles. Choosing her words carefully so as not to offend him, she began quietly. "I think you are all foolish to consider taking up arms against the state. I think it's going to get you all killed. I hear talk of the people rising with you, and I pray you are right. But the people do not think about the future. They don't plan for next year. Or next month. Or next week. They think about the next meal. They think about how they are going to feed their children. They think about surviving the night and making enough to pay their rent the next day. When you're cold and hungry, that's all you can think about. You can't plan for the future because you don't know if you'll even have one." Eponine cut herself off, realizing she had gone on longer than she intended. She dropped her eyes to the stone pavement in front her, smirking slightly. "But that's just my opinion."

[Deleted]

As they walked, Combeferre kept his focus on the street ahead of them, only daring to look over at Eponine once. It was then that he realized how malnourished she was. There was such a stark contrast between him and his perfectly good clothes and healthy weight, and the girl, who was wearing what he could only describe as rags and looked all skin and bones. He looked away so that it would not appear as if he was staring, studying his boots as they walked along the cobblestone road. He only looked up again when she addressed his question about the Aristotle tome. “What?” He gazed over at her in confusion. “I couldn’t ask for payment—we have a mutual friend, don’t we? That’s all this is, a friend helping out another friend…because that’s what friends do, don’t they? That’s at least how it’s been in my experience.” He couldn’t believe what she had just said—did she think that he wanted something in return for helping her? All he wanted to do was help for the sake of helping.

“I don’t want you to pay me, really. It’s payment enough knowing that I’ve led another person to appreciate the greatness that is Aristotle.” Combeferre insisted, his blue eyes meeting her dark ones briefly. Realizing that she would probably refuse him if he did not adhere to her condition, he paused in thought for a few moments. What could he have her do that would require the least amount of work and allow him to continue helping her? “My flat could use some cleaning—if you insist on doing something for me, but really, it’s no trouble at all—in fact, you are helping me by allowing me to teach you. It’s practice because I want to become a professor someday. You will be my first student.” he stated with a grin. “And you must help yourself to anything in the cabinets—I have far too much food in there for one person, and I always dine alone so I really must get rid of it. Consider it a token of my thanks for your work and nothing more.”

His head turned as she began to speak her mind about their revolutionary movement. He was not surprised at her first words—in the case of an armed uprising, he knew that the odds were not in their favor, and that by no means would it be an easy or quick undertaking. It would require careful planning and without a doubt even a good amount of luck. His eyes grew pensive as she laid out her objections, and he was sobered with the realization that none of them had really taken into consideration the people’s day-to-day lives. They had the mentality that they would put their lives on the line because they had nothing to lose, but that wasn’t necessarily true at all. Their lives were humble but they were still lives. They still had families and hopes and dreams, did they not? He stayed silent for a few moments, musing over what she had said, and then he blinked and shook his head. “I never…I never once thought of it like that.” he admitted, glancing over at her briefly as he folded his hands behind his back. “What you say makes perfect sense—I just, I never had an understanding of what it is that you and the others go through every day. I don’t think I ever could have a full understanding. To tell you the truth, I don’t want it to come to that—I would like to avoid armed combat at any cost. I do not wish for lives to be wasted, and I am not given to antagonizing the government more than it already has been, but I fear that they won’t listen to us, and Enjolras’s suggestion is the only solution. I wasn’t completely behind him at first…I still doubt the merits of a full-scale war against the monarchy. But what I refuse to do is sit here and do absolutely nothing…I could not it good conscience allow things to go on the way that they are without at least trying to make a difference.” He paused to make brief eye contact again before continuing, “What you’ve just told me was very helpful and puts things into a completely new perspective. I must speak to Enjolras about the matter further. May I trouble you with one more question? What do you think that the ABC as a group can do to help?”

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

A slight breeze blew out of an alley, ruffling Eponine's hair, which she pushed out of her face again. The young man beside her continued to surprise her. While they did attend the same meetings, they had never spoken more than a few words to each other. To call them acquaintances was too strong a word to her mind. And yet, Combeferre was offering to teach her because that's what friends do. She might be touched by the gesture had she not been burned so often in her short life. Instead of finding it inviting and warm, she found her defenses rising involuntarily. Too many times, people who said they wanted nothing in return were simply waiting for the opportune time to cash in their favors, usually for a much higher return. She turned her brown eyes to him to protest, only to find him watching her, offering to let her clean his flat. Eponine let out a short laugh, nodding to him. "That's acceptable. And trust me, you'll decide you want as much payment as I can give. I'm not the easiest student to teach."

She waved off his offer of food as well, not wanting to out right refuse his hospitality, but not wanting to be a charity case either. In all honesty, it likely would not take much for her to take him up on it, a few hollow days and she would be raiding his kitchen. She told herself to make a note of everything to took from him, if it came to that, and find a way to make up for it. More than anything she wished for things to be even between them. She had no desire to owe him, or anyone else for that matter, anything at all. She had seen the things her Pere and his men did to people who owed them, and while she had no doubt Combeferre meant her no harm, her sense of self-preservation would not allow her to chance it.

Nodding to him, she set her sights on the street ahead of them. At least one of the Amis was not champing at the bit for a fight. She knew that the students were not necessarily looking for a conflict, but were not hesitant in avoiding one either. It seemed to her all they did anymore was prepare for an all out battle with the state. Perhaps they were right, there was no other readily apparent solution. Heaven knows she wasn't exactly well-versed in political maneuvering. "I did not mean to offend. It's just that it is a hard thing to grasp if you have never lived it. It took me a while, because I was not born to the slums." Eponine kept her eyes front, hiding her faraway look as she thought of her old home. Of money and comfort and gifts and a full belly at night. Combeferre's question drew her back from her memories. She shook her head, biting her lip. "I'm afraid I do not have any answers, Monsieur. Perhaps there is no easy answer."

[Deleted]

He smiled at her laugh, however brief it was. Not once at their meetings could he recall hearing her laugh. It was different from the laughs of the comparatively snobbish ladies he was exposed to whenever he went home for supper with his family, but it was pleasant to him, and he thought it suited her. “Mademoiselle, I have never once in my life shirked from a challenge, and I am not about to start now. I can assure you that in less than three weeks, you will be reading Aristotle here with perfect ease, or my name isn’t Blaise Combeferre.” he replied with a confident grin. In all honesty he would strive to be a patient tutor, and was willing to put in as much time as needed to teach her. “You seem very eager to learn—in my experience, that makes learning all the more easier. I’ve seen it in other students…the ones determined to succeed are usually the ones that do. Before long you’ll be seeing plenty of improvement.”

He tried to work out why she had initially been so reticent to take his offer of help. From her first reaction to his asking to walk her home, he could tell that this young woman possessed an ample amount of pride. Was that why it had offended her? He wished he was better at reading people, sometimes it seemed the only thing he was good at was reading books. That was why he could never have become a lawyer—he simply did not have the proclivity for understanding others’ reactions. He could work with people when asked to, yes, and he always did concern himself with his fellow man’s well-being, but he simply did not have the natural ‘people’ skills such as rhetoric and being able to gauge a person’s thoughts from their actions that were useful for becoming an attorney. And, not, wanting to let his father down, he had chosen another profession he knew he would be good at and he knew he would enjoy, and that was teaching. Medicine made him feel as if he was of use, and thus he had grown to cherish it as well.

Combeferre glanced over at Eponine in surprise when she told him that she had not been born in the slums. He wanted to ask what had happened, but he felt as if that would be overstepping the clear boundary that did exist, and so he did not. “I only, well, became aware of the problems that existed in our society when I was ten—that’s when my family first came here. I’m originally from Cherbourg, and we were only visiting, but my father and I would walk through Saint-Michel handing out alms to the poor. What I saw stuck with me all these years, and ever since then I wanted to do something that would make a difference—which is why I chose medicine. My family are all lawyers so they were not too happy to hear that you could imagine.” he stated with a chuckle. His face grew grave again at her answer to his question. “Perhaps not.” he agreed solemnly. “But come now, let us not talk of such severe matters any longer. I’m afraid we’ll get plenty of that from the meetings from here on out. You must tell me what type of books you would be most interested in so I can prepare a reading list.”

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Eponine could not help but smile at Combeferre's confidence in her ability to learn.  In honest, she was afraid on some level he would be put off by how little she really did know, but was willing to risk it if it meant something to swing Marius's attentions.  Thinking of long conversations at the cafe with him, his sweet voice and kind smile directed at only her made Eponine's smile widened even more, bringing out her dimples.  "Very well, Monsieur.  I only wanted you to know what your were getting into before you leaped in with both feet."  Eponine's desire to learn may not have been purely motivated, but it didn't make it any less strong.  If anything, it made it stronger.  It drove her onward with a fervor that many lacked.  If hunching her neck over a dusty tome was what it took to steal a few moments with Marius, she do it without hesitation.  There weren't many things she wouldn't do for that young student.

Still smiling brightly, she turned to Combeferre, clasping her hand in front of her skirt.  His question about a reading list made Eponine think.  What would Marius want to discuss?  She knew whatever he was studying would be far beyond her comprehension but perhaps there was something among Combeferre's books that she could study that would intersect with Marius's interests.  What had she heard him talking about?  What could she pick up quickly and comprehend enough to hold conversation with Marius?  "What would you recommend?  A good starting point so I can discuss things with you and the other students."

Eponine spied the small tumble down house she had told Combeferre was hers.  They had already passed many of the alleys and side streets that Eponine usually slept in, but she had been so wrapped up in her conversation with him she hadn't seen them to make an excuse to slip away.  Now she was running out of time to plan how to extract herself without raising his suspicion.  She couldn't just go into the house, not without the risk of arrest or worse.  But could she convince him to leave before seeing her into the house?  If she could just get his back turned, she could disappear into the shadows next to house.  "It's... just up here.  You really don't have to walk me all the way."  Her arms crossed across her stomach at the sight of the house, little more than a shack.  She was almost ashamed, despite not actually living there, because she knew Combeferre and the other students lived in so much better conditions.  Perhaps that's why she liked spending so much time with them.  Despite their own fortune, they were not the usual snobbish bourgeois that had no time for people like her.  They were actively trying to help the people, however misguided Eponine thought their methods might be.

[Deleted]

Combeferre glimpsed the smile that graced Eponine’s face, and was immediately arrested by the sensation of having the wind knocked out of him. It was the first time he had ever seen her smile—of course she had probably smiled before within the Musain, but this was the first time he had ever seen, or had ever been looking—and it was nothing short of beautiful. It seemed to light up her face, her eyes to the point that she was glowing—it was such a change from when he had first seen her struggling over that book of his. He wished he had Jehan’s skill to adequately describe what he saw at the moment.

It took him a little while to realize he was staring and he looked away clearing his throat, grateful for the darkness that concealed his blush. “You…you should smile more often, mademoiselle—it becomes you.” he complimented gutsily with a timid smile. He did not know where the sudden burst of courage or the trance he had been in had come from, and frankly it had shocked him—but there was something almost…exciting about it. He was assailed with that same breathless feeling that had stricken him before when the young woman turned to him with the same sunny, dimpled smile on her face.

He almost did not hear what she had asked. “A wha..oh, yes, yes of course. Let me think…” He looked away so that he could gather his thoughts. The spell was broken and he realized just how like a fool he was acting—what the deuce had just happened to him? It was like he had been bewitched, entranced, unaware of everything around him. “Well, one of my favorites is The Republic—by Plato, who is one of the early Greek philosophers, as is Aristotle. We can go through their works first…then maybe a little of Machiavelli just so you can see why we oppose a monarchy so much. Then we can work our way up to the Enlightenment. Rousseau, Locke, Hobbes…Enjolras likes those. I find the Federalist papers rather interesting too. My original copy is in English but I’ve made a legible translation in my spare time. I’ll have to come up with a definite list, but we could start with Politics by Aristotle, if you’d like.” the young man suggested.

His blue eyes fell upon the house Eponine lived in—he didn’t even know if he could call it that. He didn’t know what to say about it, but the pity was clear in his eyes. He didn’t feel right about just leaving her here, but there wasn’t anything he else he could do at the moment. “Are you sure? It’s no trouble at all.” Combeferre stated, but he didn’t want to push it. “If you’re certain—oh, when would you like to start lessons? Any time is fine for me—I could even start tomorrow if you’d like.” he offered, his eyes bright. He was already anticipating their first lesson--he didn't know why he felt so giddy. It was probably just the fact that he was eager to pass on his knowledge to someone else.

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Eponine glanced out of the corner of her eye at Combeferre, somewhat taken aback. Had he really just complimented her on her smile? No one had ever done that, not genuinely, in a very long time. So long ago that Eponine was sure her hair had been in curls and covered by a fine bonnet. Too often in her life compliments came with strings attached, something to butter her up before someone asked her to do something for them, usually something she objected to. Something about the way Combeferre stuttered the compliment though told her this one was sincere, if a little unpracticed. She found herself wondering how long it had been since he had complimented anyone since he seemed to lack his eloquence even in that simple venture. "Thank you, Monsieur. But please, just Eponine. As I said, I am no lady deserving of such a formality." It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Combeferre meant no insult at the gesture, but Eponine's stubbornness just could not let it rest. To her mind, mademoiselles were the plump young girls who rode in carriages and hid from the sun under umbrellas and bonnets to save their precious complexion. They had sweet voices and easy smiles and never had to sleep with one eye open. They were everything Eponine was not, with her tanned skin and matted dirty brown hair and clothes that were more holes than cloth. Her appearance as it was, she could not help but find mocking in the term, even when none existed.

As Combeferre listed off book after book, Eponine felt a little overwhelmed. There were so many, so many names and subjects she didn't recognize. Would she really be able to read all that? Half the words he said she couldn't spell, let alone understand. A feeling began to creep in that this whole plan was crazy, that she was an idiot to believe she could possibly hold her own in any kind of scholarly discussion with Marius. That no matter how much she learned, he would always know more and she would look the fool for even trying to match him. Her smile faltered momentarily, but something in Combeferre's eagerness and enthusiasm gave her hope. He looked to have such a passion for teaching, as if he could hardly contain his excitement at showing her all the knowledge he could. Perhaps between his devotion to reading and her desire to learn, they'd make a student out of her yet.

Stopping just short of the house, Eponine glanced down the darkened alley to side, checking to see her route clear. If would not do for her to be escaping the watchful eye of Combeferre only to stumble into trouble interrupting a mugging or some lovely lady going about her business. Eponine was well aware of the dangers that hid in the darkness of Rue Saint-Denis. Seeing nothing lurking in the shadows, she turned to the blonde. "I am sure, Monsieur. I can manage a mere few feet on my own. Shall we begin... well, is tomorrow afternoon too soon? I don't wish to disrupt your own studies." The sooner she started, the sooner she would be able to dazzle Marius with her new found education. "Just tell me the address and I shall be there without fail. I cannot thank you enough, Monsieur." She considered briefly extending her hand to shake his, but was acutely aware of the dirt that covered her own and the pristine nature of his. So instead she just nodded her thanks, taking a step back towards the house.