It was not until Marius had left that Cosette saw the wraith.
It seemed to her a flickering thing, swept about with dark tendrils that might have been
hair; dancing like a wil-o-the-wisp not far beyond the garden gate. She had lingered there,
flushed in memory of her recent visitor, when the apparition startled her. Furthermore,
she thought the mist-borne creature somehow familiar. She leaned into the fence.
"Hello?" She called to the spirit. The spirit froze for a full moment; threatened
flight. "Don't be afraid!" Cosette's voice arrested the creature's movements once more.
"Come here!"
Hesitant as an alley cat, the wraith- ah! It was small, and female- approached
the gate, crouching in the shadows just out of reach, should the lady try to grab at her. But
such, at the moment, was not Cosette's intention.
"Hello!" She repeated, pleasantly enough. "And who are you now?"
Still tentative, the girl-thing hovered in the darkness. When she spoke her
voice was oddly deep and rough, and it seemed to come from closer than the figure
appeared. She said,
"I'm Eponine. I already know who you are."
"Oh!" Cosette was a little surprised at that. The name 'Eponine', too rang
familiar in her ears. But she was curious about this well-informed creature. "Step closer
so that I can see you." The shadow-girl shook her head and retreated a step or two.
Cosette could not contain a small laugh at that, and a very pretty one too. "Are you afraid
of me then? You needn't be. Here, come into the garden and talk to me." She moved the
bar through which Marius had entered and exited. A sharp intake of breath from the
indecisive grey mist-figure, then, resolutely, it darted through the bars and stood to face
Cosette fully. The latter's intake of breath was just as sharp.
"Why then! You're that artist's daughter! Ahh... Fabantou! I thought that I
recognized you!" And Cosette clapped her hands with delight, "Well, that explains how
you knew me, then. But fie! Your clothes! What happened to the new ones that Father
and I brought you?"
Eponine, now plainly visible before the exquisite other girl, was flush with
embarrassment in her rags and bare shoulders; matted hair and dirty face. She managed to
reply,
"Things don't last long where I'm from." It seemed to her that the dirt of her
skin and clothes almost burned. it did not help that the young lady was, Eponine thought,
even more beautiful and fine than when she had come to her house the day she'd been
thrown in the pen. Cosette, oblivious to Eponine's embarrassment, was moved to
ferocious pity.
"You poor thing! You're my age, are you not? And not much smaller! I
certainly have some things- nice things- that will fit you. Come with me!" Cosette seized
the wraith's hand; the latter jerked away in alarm.
"I don't think that wise." At the moment, Eponine was seized by many
conflicting emotions; foremost of which was that the old Man- the rich father- would be
home and recognise her. Cosette paused, frowning.
"Shall I fetch the things and bring them to you?" Eponine considered telling
this little lady what to do with her charity, but Cosette's pretty voice flowed on, with no
room for interruption, "No, that will never do! You'll fly before I return without a doubt!
And besides, how would you look in a good, proper dress with your hair and face thus?
No! We must clean you up, and you must come with me." Cosette clasped Eponine's hand
again; this time, Eponine did not pull away. She was distracted by some faraway thought,
and Cosette was unquenchably chattering, "You know, I am rather glad that you appeared
as you did. It will be fun to play dress-up with someone, most certainly." She giggled,
"And you are really very nice looking. I think that with a clean face, and in a proper dress,
you could be quite lovely." That made Eponine start. She could be lovely? The
idea! and then, she asked herself, 'Why did I stay after Monsieur Marius left?' She found
herself being led towards the house, her benefactress continuing her babble in the same
vein and making Eponine's head spin. But when they got to the door, panic got the better
of Eponine, and she halted.
"One moment-" She caught Cosette's shoulder suddenly, startling her, "Your
father- is he in the house?" Cosette furrowed her brow.
"No- he lives in the back yard. But he is on a walk at the moment anyway. Did
you wish to speak to him?" Eponine shuddered at the thought. She had heard something
from Monteparnasse and others what had taken place in the apartment that evening that
her father was arrested, and the fact that the old man had escaped before he could be
questioned was to her, as it had been to Javert, telling. Since she had been the one who
had lured the unsuspecting gentleman into the Jondrette Lair, she feared to ever meet him
again. To Cosette, she replied in a low voice,
"Please mademoiselle, do not tell your father that I was here! Do not mention
me to him! Will you do that for me?" confused by the urgent and fear-filled tone in the
girl's voice, Cosette replied with a dainty frown,
"Why ever not?"
It occurred to Eponine that Monsieur Rich-fellow had not told his daughter of
what had occurred during his second visit that evening; she replied vaguely,
"My father, you see, is in La Force- in prison Mademoiselle. It would not do to
have the man who took such pity on us and was so kind to hear of it- do you understand?
Or, perhaps he has already heard, and then, he would certainly not want his daughter to be
seen with a girl," She lowered her voice even further, "whose father was a convict and
who had seen the inside of Les Maledonnettes." If the admission startled the lady, it also
steeled her resolve to help Eponine- although she did agree not to mention the visit to her
father, whom she did not expect to see until breakfast anyway. Eponine fairly melted with
relief.
"Merci mademoiselle!" She sighed, letting Cosette lead her by the waist up the
stairs. Cosette, did not fear of waking Toussaint, who slept like a rock.
"No need of that," Cosette blushed faintly as they reached the top of the stairs,
"And please, you will stay here tonight. Like a slumber party! Oh, that will be nice... but
you mustn't call me mademoiselle; you must call me Cosette."
in Eponine's head, the thunder crashed.