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The Long Hour

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The evening distinctly had ended on a marvellous night; however it had not been without its difficulties. More often than not, Eponine as well as Enjolras argued in whispers about her close proximity. The arguments usually consisted of a grinning Eponine, and a flustered Enjolras. Then, the political arguments between Marius and Enjolras voraciously came, which Eponine had zealously become immune to. It was amusing to behold the Fauchelevent’s bewildered expressions. Nevertheless, Enjolras had improved his people skills enough to survive the night without banging doors and spitting fire. Dare he think it; he would not mind another chance to coincidentally meet with the family. The stars twinkled above them as Enjolras mightily stood in the doorway, his body chilled from the night air. “Monsieur Enjolras, I enjoyed your company tonight.” Under his elbow were two books, Monsieur Valjean passed the two mighty volumes in Enjolras’ arms. “These are two books I have enjoyed in the past; I thought you might enjoy them.” Enjolras thanked him with warm gratitude, if there was a gift he would always cherish; it was the beauty of the written word. Modestly, Valjean shook Enjolras’ hand for the last time in the night and bid au revoir. Under the light, Cosette’s dress shone with a lavender glow. With a cherishing smile, she pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek. Surprisingly, he did not mind the innocent gesture. “Thank you for the dinner, Cosette.” He, subconsciously, glanced at

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