Black, The Dark of Ages Past

A Fine Statue

"But Enjolras! The people might not be ready to live without a king! It was tried in the First Republic, but ended with Bonaparte as the Emperor!"

"The Bourgeosie must come down, my friend! The citizens of Paris have long been abused by those of wealth! Are we not all men? Are we all not equal?!"

Of course, Ismérie could only see the back of the two youths. She found herself drawn to the words of the man, Enjolras. She cleared her throat, unable to stop herself from interjecting. A flaw of hers.

"Pardon, Monsieurs. But, we are not all men and never has there been equality unless perhaps in ancient times. Cleopatra did rule long ago and there are goddesses with almost equal power to gods. If all were equal, would I not be equal to both of thee? I agree with you, Monsieur, that too long have the poor suffered at the hands of the rich, but will it be that we are all rich or all poor?"

The men turned to stare at this outspoken creature with surprise. The first man had a bit of a scholarly air to him. He was attractive; his reddish hair kept well and his gray eyes were observant if not wise. He had a serene appearance; it seemed that he was one that was ever so calm. He dressed professionally, not so much as a gentleman, but of a young man about to enter a higher profession. Though he was a bit unshaven. The other, Enjolras was a charming young man that was capable of being terrible. He was Antinous wild. His golden locks curled and flowed freely about his head. His eyes were blue and his cheeks rosy. He looked more like a feminine boy than a man. He dressed decently enough, though it was quite evident that he did not put too much care into his appearance. It was Enjolras who seemed to chuckle as he looked over Ismérie. His stare made her freeze briefly; even the "cold woman" as Fabien described her could not deny the attractiveness of Enjolras. It was not just his physical appearance, but that fiery passion that existed in those blue eyes.

"Why, Combeferre, it looks like we have ourselves a philosophical grisette. How do you know of these names?"

Ismérie felt slighted by his words. She stood straight and scolded him in indignation, "Monsieur! I suggest that you talk to me as your equal! Yes, I am a grisette, but from what I see, you are but a poor student! Is it so terrible that someone in my station and of my sex has read the works of Robespierre?  I should say not! I was born to le Baron Pierre Luc Chénier and his wife, le Baroness Amelina Euphrasie Antoinette LeBlanc Chénier! My name is Ismérie Amelina Azélie Chénier! You, Monsieur, wish to gain the backing of a downtrodden people? Hah! You shall not accomplish this by ostracizing more than half the population!" She inhaled sharply, placing her hands on her hips before she continued, "I demand of you the respect you gives to your friends!"

Enjolras and Combeferre were taken aback by the fire within the grisette, even moreso than the revelation of her lineage. Both men studied her closely. Here was an educated woman; a peasant nonetheless! It was evident in her outfit; nothing showy. It was plain. She wore petticoats and a brown dress of rather coarse material over a white blouse. An apron was tied around her waist and a shawl hung around her shoulders. Combeferre thought of her as useful and intelligent. Also, a rather beautiful specimen. Meanwhile, Enjolras found himself infuriated by her, but intrigued. She was the embodiment of Adrestia in a way. With a chuckle, he bowed to her.

"Mademoiselle Chénier, do accept my humble apology. I did not intend to belittle you. Would you please join us tonight at the Cafe Musain? I could come and collect you at whichever time you find fit."

Combeferre was taken aback by the tone and mannerisms of Enjolras. The thought of him escorting a woman caused him to fight back a ferocious bout of laughter. What a roar it would cause in their group. His companion quickly cast a stern glare to him, immediately hushing him. Ismérie was taken aback by the offer as well. She eyed him suspiciously.

"And what is it that thee talk about, Monsieur? You and your friends."

"Politics and the like. The future of France." Ismérie could not help but to raise a lovely brow.

"I suppose it would be fine. You may meet me outside of the Lefevre Smith Shop." Enjolras was surprised as was Combeferre.

"Mademoiselle, why at the Lefevre place?"

"Why, I am employed by Mademoiselle Lefevre. In fact, I am on my way to the bakery now to get bread for supper." So the nobility of the Bonaparte dynasty had fallen to the status of a simple maid. It mattered not to the men. She had a beautiful mind.

"Combeferre, please tell the Friends that Mademoiselle will be joining us tonight. I don't want that Grantaire up to his old shenanigans... The lily bastard... If it is okay with Mademoiselle, I would like to escort her to and from the bakery and receive permission from her employer for tonight."

Combeferre was surprised once more. At the moment, he could not tell what Enjolras was thinking. Had he some plan for the girl? He cleared his throat, "Of course, Enjolras. I will get to that."

The medical student turned on his heel and began his trek to the Cafe Musain. His head was pounding with questions for his friend. When he made it to the cafe, he burst through the door, breathless and amused. Had Enjolras taken a fancy to this Ismérie? He immediately set to tidying the tables. The other men looked up in confusion, wondering why Combeferre had decided to start cleaning. It was Courfeyrac that asked the question on all their minds.

"Combeferre, what in the world are you doing?" At the mention of his name, he looked up with a grin.

"Gather round, men. I have news for you all."

Courfeyrac, Marius, Grantaire, Jehan, Feuilly, Bahorel, Joly, and L'Aigle stood around the table that Combeferre had just finished tidying, curiosity taking over. Grantaire looked around drunkenly.

"Combeferre, where is Enjolras?"

"That is part of the story, my friends. Today, Enjolras and I left Fabien Lefevre's workshop after getting his promise for some guns. We were talking of course and lovely little voice chimed in. One of the beautiful Parisian grisettes has quite the intellect. Of course, Enjolras antagonized her a bit and may I say he lit quite the fuse. Mademoiselle's family was bestowed a barony by Napoleon Bonaparte but speaks as if an extreme Republican; an equalist to the very fiber of her soul."

"That is all well then. But what of Enjolras? And why is this Mademoiselle so important?" This was of course, the words of Joly.

"Hush you! Do you not see he is trying to tell us a story?" L'Aigle chastised his dear friend. Laughter erupted from the group. Combeferred cleared his throat to continue.

"Anyway, Mademoiselle impressed me greatly as well as Enjolras so it appears. The man apologized to her and not only asked for her presence tonight but offered to escort her as well!"

"Enjolras?!"

"You must be joking, Combeferre! Come off it!"

"Could it be that Enjolras is enamored by this grisette?!"

"It can not possibly be!"

Combeferre cleared his throat once more, "There is more!"

"What more?! Pray tell!"

"Mademoiselle is a maid in the service of the Lefevre family and was on an errand to the bakery. Not only did our friend bid me to come to you all and give you warning, but he decided to escort the girl to the bakery, back to Lefevre, and ask permission of Mademoiselle Lefevre so that she may leave with him promptly after their return!"

"I dare say Enjolras has found his Muse!"

"Fool! France is his Muse! This Mademoiselle is his mistress-to-be no doubt!"

"Come now! We know Enjolras would never do such a thing!"

"Friends! Quiet yourselves! We must tidy up at least a bit! And Grantaire!" The young drunkard looked up.

"What is it, Combeferre?"

"Sober up. Enjolras does not want you up to your shenanigans when the Mademoiselle arrives."

"A fine statue indeed..."