Black, The Dark of Ages Past

A Dream Cannot Be Shared

After bidding Combeferre farewell, Enjolras turned once more to Ismérie, taking in the maiden before him. Even he had to admit that her physical beauty was something to behold. But what intrigued him most was her intelligence and political ideaology. He offered his arm to her yet Ismérie seemed to hesitate.

"Mademoiselle, it is but an arm. Did you not just chastise me for my lack of sensitivity towards you?"

"You art right, Monsieur. But, it would not be proper for me to take your arm for it is the arm of a stranger. And my anger was directed at your misgivings about the intelligence of a grisette such as I."

"I see. I can make assurances on my honor, Mademoiselle, that I shall bring you no harm. Another matter I would like to mention though."

"What is on your mind?"

"You did request that I speak to you as I would one of my friends. But, I'd like you to know that I refer to my friends by name. When one is treated better than the other, it would make the cause difficult to rally behind."

Ismérie's cheeks turned a faint shade of red much to the glee of Enjolras. She did not like being caught in this double standard whether the standard be noticeable or not. It occurred to her that the man perhaps found humor in turning her words against her. A true rascal indeed! A man who loved to debate.

"Monsieur is correct. But I would like him to make his point clear."

"Allow me to refer to you by name as I do my friends for are you not now my friend? You have  accepted my invitations and I prefer to communicate with you on an equal level since it occurs to me that your mind is firm and interests me quite so."

"My mind you say, Monsieur? Since you have asked so kindly, I grant you permission."

"Merci, Ismérie."

"I said that you may refer to me as Mademoiselle Chenier. I never said you could refer to me by my first name."

Enjolras was taken aback. He raise a brow.

"If I permit you to call me Alexandre, will you permit me to call you by name?"

"I suppose that would be fair. But we are not very much on intimate levels, Alexandre."

He laughed causing Ismérie to blush slightly. What was with men finding her honesty amusing? Enjolras offered his arm once more and this time, she took it. They began walking in the direction of the bakery once more.

"Such strange things you say, Ismérie. I do have to say. You have quite the name and every single one is pretty."

"I did not take you for a flirt, Alexandre."

The man looked taken aback.

"But, it is the truth. Why does honesty have to be taken for seduction."

"Again, you have a firm point."

"I typically do."

At this, it was Ismérie's turn to laugh. Enjolras looked amused at the sound and at their little banter.

"Conceited are we?"

"No. I'm just sure of myself. I prefer the term confident."

"Confident indeed."

He took her lowered guard as an opportunity to begin asking her questions. She was indeed a curious specimen.

"Pray tell, Ismérie. Were you born into poverty?"

"No, I was born in 1812 when my father was still a baron. He was very prudent with his money and was sure to keep his funds secure and we lived on a certain amount each month. There was enough money in the house for me to receive an education as well as for us to have servants and to live in comfort."