Black, The Dark of Ages Past

Peace, Tranquility, and Poetry

**Jean Prouvaire**

Same Night

Mirielle was apprehensive about this group of students her friend seemed so fond of; it was hardly appropriate that the young woman even went among them. But Ismérie insisted that they were all kind and noble men plus, there was an older woman who owned the cafe in which they met and occasionally, a girl from the streets. Enjolras escorted the two women without a word; he allowed Ismérie to do all the talking. It occurred to Mirielle that despite his charisma, the man seemed to be more the quiet, pensive type given to bursts of passion. She could see why her friends was so drawn to him.

When they arrived at the Musain, the older woman Ismérie greeted them and ushered them up the stairs to a room seldom used other than that group's meetings. She wondered why there was such secrecy, but realized that perhaps it was because it was quieter in that room. Enjolras instructed the girls to stay outside the door until he called them in. Mirielle exchanged a look with Ismérie, who merely smiled back at her, "Why are we waiting out here?"

"Probably so that he can prepare them for another woman in their midst."

"Where is the girl you mentioned earlier?"

"She isn't able to come to every meeting; her family is poor and often needs her help."

"And the Madame downstairs?"

"She owns the cafe. She comes up periodically."

Enjolras opened the door, holding it for the two girls, "You can come in now."

When they entered, the young men were sitting around tables that they had push together. Some were drinking, some were smoking, but all of them were staring at Mirielle, having gotten used to Ismérie's presence. Mirielle was a classic sort of beauty that the men found to be endearing, particularly Jean Prouvaire, or Jehan. His blue eyes locked with hers and a smile appeared on his lips. Mirielle blushed and looked away. They were both two timid hearts, one prone to fantasy and one prone to reality. Jehan stood, pulling out a chair for Mirielle, "Mademoiselle, I'm Jean Prouvaire. And your name?"

"Mirielle," she practically whispered.

He smiled gently, "Mirielle, a beautiful name that means peace. Hopefully, you can help us bring peace to those less fortunate."

Ismérie crossed her arms and chuckled, "I see that you cannot be bothered to pull a chair out for me, Jehan."

Jehan blushed and Mirielle looked confused, "Jehan? But he said his name was Jean."

"Jehan is a nickname, Mademoiselle."

Lesgle grinned and pulled out a chair for Ismérie, "Don't worry, colombe. I have not forgotten you."

She laughed and took a seat, "Why thank you, Monsieur Lesgle."

Enjolras cleared his throat, "Now that we are done with pleasantries, we must discuss a course for Saturday."

Courferyac spoke first, "I believe we should pair off or at least travel in groups to cover more ground and for protection; you never know when you might be robbed. Particularly for Ismérie and Mademoiselle Mirielle if she wishes to join us on this venture."

Mirielle looked around the table at the curious eyes and cleared her throat, "What is it exactly that you are doing?"

Enjolras smiled gently, "We are merely directing people to various charitable groups, mostly in churches and helping where we can."

Combeferre spoke up, "I agree with Courferyac. We should set up the groups now. Bossuet with Joly... Bahorel with Feuilly, Courferyac with Marius and Eponine, should she come... Perhaps, myself, Jehan, and Mademoiselle Mirielle?"