"Forbid me now to die," Jean Valjean uttered. Those were the last words her would ever speak. Cosette and Marius fell to the old man's knees, and as they did this the shadow of the candlesticks Jean Valjean stole from the honest bishop fell over the deceased like the prison bars he had known for those 19 years. In all her sorrow, Cosette noticed the candlesticks.
"I remember these," she choked through tears, "Papa held them so dear."
Little did Cosette know that these two candlesticks represented two things that Jean Valjean centered his life around. Freedom and Integrity. They didn't keep you warm at night, but they certainly kept you upright.
*******
Four years later Marius was still haunted by the deaths of his friends. Their faces plagued his dreams; and their ideas haunted his thoughts. He was the only survivor- he felt guilty for that. He stole happiness with Cosette, while they lay rotting in nameless graves. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Marius, the doctor is here," said Cosette, his beloved wife.
"I'll be down in a minute."
Marius and Cosette had conceived thier first child, but alas, Cosette was having problems with her pregnancy. The doctor examined her and sadly gave the results.
"I'm sorry, Madame Pontmercy," he said with a struggle, "You lost your child."
"How...Oh God, Marius."
There was pain in her voice, as she started weeping. Marius held her and comforted her, and wept also. But what else can a husband do in these troublesome times? Later that night Cosette and Marius were in their room.
"Marius, you know times like these only make us stronger," said Cosette.
"I know, my dear, but we would all rather not have these things happen to us," he said, relating to the deaths of his friends.
To the doctor, it was just another miscarriage he had to report. To Cosette and Marius, it was yet another loss in their lives.
*******
Marius's friends were gone, but his aspiration for Revolution remained. A new cafe was built where the Corinth once stood, and there Marius met many men with the same aspirations. They talked of Revolution, of a Republic, just as Marius had in 1832. They wanted free speech- and the king out.
One man there, Lauquet, suggested they take action. Marius wanted a Second Republic just as much as any man there, but he thought it should wait a bit. "Marius, we know you have a wife, and you're trying to get a family started, but you know Revolution should always be rushed," inquired Lauquet.
"But you weren't there in 1832, Lauquet. You don't know what it feels like to have all your friends shoot by the firing squad, and you the only one to survive. I still haven't gotten over it," said Marius. "Well then get over it. Do you want a Republic or not?” retorted Lauquet.
"Yes, of course! Who doesn't? But I still think we should wait. We need countless guns and ammunition, and we have to rally the people and call them to arms. A Revolution takes planning, Lauquet," stated Marius. With that Marius walked briskly out, without a single goodbye. Marius was hurt my Lauquet's stingy comments. He's nothing like Enjolras, Marius thought. Enjolras knew what he was doing. Lauquet will never compare.
*******
Lauquet was a tall, bold man. He wore a cap on his balding head, and his clothes smelled of must. He was a rebel- a Revolutionary- as they were called in those days. He was at the ripe age of 28.
Lauquet came to Paris in 1833, after the Revolution was over. Before 1833 he lived in Veigo. His father worked in a factory that made small trinkets. The mayor owned the factory. When the factory collapsed his father was without a job, and their family without income. They moved to the slums of Saint-Michelle, where Lauquet's parents died. His brother came with him to Paris, but died of cholera shortly after. Lauquet lived in an apartment that was better than a hovel, but a deal less than Marius's house. He did fine though, he was healthy. He lived on poor journalist's wages, and what he found in passerby's pockets from time to time.
Lauquet envied Marius, for he had all he wanted- a loving wife, a warm bed, and food on the table. A beggar could live a week on what the Pontmercy's ate in a day.
*******
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