If this is who I think it is…no, I’m not going to tell Gavroche to give it back. It’s much too garish for you and you know you only wear it because it fits….Bahorel intended it as a joke!
I will neither confirm nor deny that I told Gavroche to remove it. Let me buy you another one. I’m seeing sky blue, if you really want to go distinctive colours and are quite keen on making a statement.
Would you die if you told Enjolras that you were fed up with him talking about the revolution 24/7? Only, I suspect, if you were of a particularly sensitive disposition and his resulting confusion caused you acute embarrassment (or if you had already, say, a case of the cholera before you embarked on the conversation).
For all some of us tease him for his single - and singular - passion for the subject, Enjolras does not intrude his talk of revolution upon every conversation. I have seen him sit hour upon hour in the Musain, listening silently to us as we hold forth upon everything from Dumas’ latest to how to remove ink from one’s gloves, and he does nothing to hinder such talk unless it interferes with those discussions that center around the goal to which we all swore our most solemn oaths.
He is also quite wickedly funny - never assume he’s not listening to you, whatever the topic may be, or his dry, witty little rejoiners may catch you unawares.
Try talking to him about, say technological progress - development of steam powered locomotives or railways is always a good topic. I’ve never seen anyone save Combeferre light up so much at the prospect of scientific endevour and smoke belching machines. Of course, such conversations lead to an abundance of abstract imagery concerning chimeras and dragons, but that’s all part of the charm of his conversation.
I sometimes wish we could induce him to speak more, but he must be let alone to his silence, listening, and that thoughtfulness that penetrates so deeply it is not always easy to follow. We just cherish those outbursts of soul when he does hold forth unhindered upon the revolution - they are rare, and never fail to inspire.
Ah…not quite the message I expected when I blithely opened my mail this morning! I - er - don’t know if congratulations or a sympathetic word are most called for, Mademoiselle, as you seem to have neglected to tell me who you are…? As a gentleman I would not guess, and you catch me quite backfooted with the implication that my precautions, which of course I undertake most diligently, have been inadequate.
Perhaps it would be best to tell me who exactly you are before we contemplate publishing the banns?
Yours in bemusement (if always ready to try and assist a lady in distress),
Decor inside Grimoire Almadel.
A glimpse inside Combeferre’s apartment.
I fall in love quite readily, so in one sense, yes! I’ve fallen in love at a glance - completely head over heels.
On the other hand, there is a decidedly tedious practical devil sitting on my shoulder who insists such a thing is the stuff of novelists and playwrights, useful to bridge the narrative action.
I have friends who insist it happens. I know one chap (no, not Marius - I wouldn’t go to him for any advice on matters of the heart, bless him) who vows he knew the moment he saw his future wife in a salon gathering that she would be his bride. An impulse that was, fortunately for all concerned, mutual.
So I’m still pondering the question. Combeferre would approve of my caution in gathering more data, Jehan would raise his eyebrows and decry me for nurturing latent cynicism. I’m quite ready to throw myself wholeheartedly into a affair that arose from a single look or a touch.
Why? Because Y is a crooked letter, and Z’s no better!
Oh, really, I don’t know - orange is bright and exciting and frankly I couldn’t work out how to get tricolor draped
nymphs allegorical figures of Republican Virtues running across the page. Jehan swears he’ll do it for me one day, but until then I’m too lazy to change it.
Have you seen Grantaire and Enjolras exchanging their looks when you all meet to discuss revolution? If I didn't know better, I'd say Enjolras harbors as much love for that drunkard in his heart as he does for his red flag, and that Grantaire is certainly more passionate about some things than he lets on. There's something not quite platonic about those two. Would you agree?
That Grantaire’s feelings towards Enjolras are a fixed and certain passion none of us doubt (although where they sit on the spectrum between Agape, Eros and Philia is another question, and it would be intrusive to pry or needle him about it). And Enjolras’s feelings in return? Although I may, without undue modesty, present myself to you as a connoisseur and adept interpreter of the human heart, that, too, eludes me.
Clearly there is something running beneath the surface - like water under the ground, as an Irish saying has it. His allowing Grantaire to remain with us, even to attend our secret councils, defies his most austere logic. For all he disdains the drinking, he apparently harbors no fear that Grantaire might ever slip and betray us, either for base coin or inadvertantly with a liquor-loosened tongue.
What to make of it? I can only shrug, and watch something that does not lend itself to easy and narrow definitions. But I can assure you that yes, whatever it is that flows between them, it does not go in one direction.
Monsieur, what is your opinion on that Eponine Thenardier? You know, the raggedy little slip of a thing that's always hanging about Marius?
Poor little thing. I made acquaintance of her and her sister, Azelma, at the Gorbeau tenement when he took an extraordinary fancy in his head to go live there. I was of assistance on one occasion to Mlle Azelma, and after that she took to calling at my apartment from time to time - usually escaping from the blackguard of a father. Why Marius tolerated him is quite beyond me - I couldn’t abide living near such a man. I’m reminded of Enjolras’s words…he might be our brother, but he is not our friend.
It is painful to see anyone in such circumstances, let alone those two girls, who are scarcely more than children. While I feel profound indignation at the degredation of poverty that acts to try and extinguish her quick, bright liveliness, and she has some…unnerving habits and tendencies, I can’t help but admire the fact that she is not crushed by her situation.
Do you understand what I mean when I say that sometimes I feel that she is looking at me with old eyes out of a girl’s face?
Your taste is as exquisite as your manners, dear lady.
I usually have quite a firm grasp on whether someone is interested in me (and when in doubt, I tend to assume they probably are), but flirting is a delight in itself and not merely a means of ascertaining level of interest. It is a dance, and should bring as much joy as one – if I am attracted to someone, I shall invite them to dance…often in more than one way. There is nothing quite like that thrill one gets when the invitation is accepted and the pas de deux begins!
My greetings and most sincere apologies for having neglected to answer your question before now – I’ve been engaged elsewhere (and you can just be silent right now and stop snickering, Prouvaire – I do NOT have the attention span of a butterfly! The nerve!). Your kind words are deeply appreciated – your taste in men and causes is impeccable!
Unsuitable Suitors, eh? A difficult question – part of me is avowedly against dictating to sisters (particularly mine, as they’d box my ears) what decisions they should make in their affairs of the heart. Do not deal advice unless it is asked for is a rule of thumb (Oh, do shut up, Prouvaire – me doling out advice to all you lot on your affaires de coeur is another matter entirely!).
On the other hand, I have been known to charge in like an indignant bull in a fine china shop if I thought one of my sisters was in danger of getting her feelings hurt.
In short, circumstance is all. Sometimes a word in the right ear at the right time is appropriate (either her’s or his). At other times, to try to drive lovers apart is merely to fuel the amour and add frisson to the relationship – one does love to feel one is defying someone, even if it’s merely a suspicious brother. Never give someone in the throes of infatuation a chance to play out a Romeo & Juliet scenario of thwarted love!