Swear By The Stars

Chapter Five

Jehan moved swiftly through the crowd and Sylvia felt that whatever grace she had was for naught, for she kept accidentally stumbling in a hurry or bumping into someone as she rushed after her new companion. She could not keep up and she found herself lost from him. She stood helplessly among the crowd, turning in various directions in hope of finding the young man, but he seemed to have drowned in the ocean of loiterers.

As she looked, a middle-aged man bumped into her and nearly pushed her to the ground again. He shot her a resentful glare as if she had somehow inconvenienced him. "Je suis désole, monsieur!" She uttered, her voice breathy from her quick pace. He grasped her arm before she could move ahead any further. 

His words came out as a fierce snarl, his face edged close to hers enough that she could inhale his repulsive breath of tobacco. "Get out of my way, next time, you little-" Sylvia felt someone loosen the grip and she saw that it was the young man from earlier. He wore an angry look on his face at the man that held onto Sylvia. Jean pulled Sylvia behind him and glared up at the man, suddenly seeming more brave than the introvert Sylvia had mistaken him for. 

"That is no way to speak to a lady, sir, do your best next time to focus on where you're walking." Jean arched his brow. The grumpy man said no more, only scoffed and walked away with his chin tilted upward in undeserved pride. 

Sylvia blushed and turned to Jean. "Merci, Monsieur Prouvaire."  

"Perhaps we should go somewhere a bit less crowded." He suggested. Sylvia nodded and followed after him. He elegantly wove his way through the crowds of people, looking back to ensure Sylvia was nearby. The crowds lessened as they approached the courtyard by the river Seine. Jehan saw that the violinist was still playing by the street corner. 

"Sylvia?" He turned and realized that she had gone away again. "Sylvia!" He looked around frantically only to find that she had simply gone to watch the violinist. Jehan approached carefully, watching as she stared not at the man, but at the amber instrument in his dirty hands. The violin was clean despite the man's spartan state. Sylvia listened longingly and withdrew a coin from the folds of her skirts and placed it into the man's case. 

Jehan stood a short distance from her, simply taking in her ensemble, her long, golden hair tightly knotted at the base of her head, her elegant fingers running along the threads of her green skirts. Her long lashes batting silently at the violinist. 

Sylvia sighed and turned back to Jehan. "Sorry, I was only... Thinking." 

"It's a beautiful song." Jehan said, fumbling for words to catch her interest. He didn't know that she was already intrigued. She looked back over at her shoulder once more at the violin and then down at her tattered shoes. 

Indeed, Jehan had expected someone who looked so marvelous onstage to be as grand in person, but she was humble with her old clothing and tattered shoes. But to him, she was grand. Everyone knew the ballet was a dying art, but girls like her made viewing it worthwhile. 

"Oh!" Sylvia gasped. "I left my friend back at the rally!" She had completely forgotten Patria in the sequence of strange events. Patria was barely taller than she, such a riot would be a dangerous place. 

Jehan furrowed his brow. Was there any chance that Sylvia's friend was the girl Enjolras had spoken so fondly of? That had certainly been a strange night. Enjolras came into the Café Musain very late that night, requesting a strong glass of wine, which Grantaire was eager to oblige; Enjolras had never been one to drink before. Combeferre was attempting to get Enjolras to focus, but he simply ran his finger around the rim of his empty glass, which Grantaire quickly refilled, humming a ballad. Courfeyrac had finally stolen the truth from Enjolras: he had met a girl, which surprised the lot of them. Enjolras looked upon women the way a wayfarer looked upon pebble within a pathway: nonchalant. But this was different, his eyes shone like a drunk man before he even gulped down the bitter wine. Before he fell asleep, he muttered the anthem under his breath and slid out if his chair, causing each member of l'amis to laugh until red in the face.