Work Text:
The future is a curious thing. One never knows exactly how it will play out, like Apollo and Hyacinthus playing discus in the field--never would they have known the fate that awaited them. Even those with a prophetic tendency, however unlikely that may be, can never be fully prepared for everything that may happen.
Although our story was quite predictable, Marius and Cosette's marriage would be the happiest our reader can imagine--and then some. We believe a story should start and end in the same way, happily in this case.
Imagine a prosperous man and his wife in a modern-day Paris. A lawyer and a schoolteacher. A man and a woman. Adam and Eve. Now, imagine that man and that woman in a large house, a palace really, cozied up next to the fire.
Cosette, in her forty-eighth year, had birthed seven children, two of which died in infancy. The remaining five, three boys and two girls, were called Jean (he was the eldest), Fantine (she was the prettiest), Éponine and Josef (they were twins), and Étienne (he was the youngest).
Jean was wed with a shopkeeper in Edinburgh, and only visited every other Easter. Fantine had married a young Parisian man with the ironic Christian name of Félix. Unlike Félix Tholomyès, as you will recall, who was old and joyful, this new Félix was young, intelligent, and stoic. He was a student. Éponine ran away from home when she was only 15 years old. The family never heard of her again. Josef and Étienne, ever the bachelors, stayed home to care for their aging parents, as Marius's knees were giving out and his wounds from the barricades all those years ago reoccurring.
Cosette, our lovely Lark, was as happy as ever, having been married to her sweetheart for thirty years. Her golden hair was growing streaks of gray, but she retained her youthful spirit.
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One day, Étienne was in the home library studying, as he was about to take his final exams. Josef was out in the garden, tending to the flowers that grew there. Much like old Monsieur Mabeuf, the young man was partial to gardening.
Suddenly, a large crash could be heard from the sitting room. Both boys jumped up and ran in the direction of where they thought the noise came from. We mustn't dwell on descriptions, as no reader enjoys being bored to death, however one thing must be said about the state of this abode.
The happy family had inherited Monsieur Gillenormand's house after he had passed away five years earlier, and had kept it much the same. Same long, billowing curtains, same plush armchairs, same woven tapestries on the walls. Although the home was thirty years older, it hadn't fallen into disrepair. The foundation was sound, the roof had no leaks, and jovial laughter could be heard throughout the whole thing. This building, rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, no.6, was built at the beginning of the revolution by around thirty slaves. It had since been a lodging house, an apartment building, and finally, a manor in 1827.
Startled by the noise, Étienne rushed to the sitting room, joining his brother at the bottom of the stairwell. When the two boys reached their destination, they were expecting something to be broken, or worse, perhaps their father had fallen and injured himself in his old age.
To their surprise, Étienne and Josef found their father sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a pile of books.
"Father, what happened?" Asked Étienne worriedly.
"I fell!" Laughed Marius.
"Fell?"
"Yes, fell!"
"Oh! Oh! But then, why are you laughing?" Asked Josef.
"Yes, Why?"
"Because, my dear boys, look at me!" Marius said.
Étienne and Josef examined him, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and they remarked as such.
"Exactly! There's not a scratch on me! I feel as young as a daisy, but I surely must be as old as the wind. In fact, I'm almost as old as your grandfather was when he died."
"Our grandfather?"
"Yes, your grandfather."
"But who was he?"
"Yes! Yes!" said Étienne. "Who was he?"
"His name was Jean Valjean, but don't you be telling people that" Marius started.
"He was a convict, you see, although he never did anything wrong. He only stole a bit of bread for his family and ended up in jail for nineteen years, under the number 24601"
"But why?" Josef inquired. "Nineteen years in prison for a bit of bread hardly seems reasonable."
"Hush boy, I'm getting to that!"
Just then, Cosette entered the room. She took one look at the scene in front of her and turned right around, her long hair fluttering behind her, like a swarm of butterflies. Marius sighed and gestured for Étienne to help him up. He rushed after his wife, praying he hadn’t done something wrong.