Les Miserables Love Story: Patria

Chapter Three: Do I Know if He's Real?

My breaths were visible and evident in the night air, each forming a penetrable fog in various shapes and sizes. I kept the pouch clutched between my chilled hands with a white knuckled grip. My pockets were ridden with holes and I didn't want to risk losing the money. I would be left with nothing whatsoever and I'd hate to think of Madame Beareux's reaction would be if I came home empty handed. The shortest walk to the bakery was a mile away and that went through alleyways. It was late that night and, of course, very risky.

Who would I be to say that I did not fear? I wished to say that I was not afraid but that was far from the truth. Girls who wandered out alone at night would often go missing. Some were never heard from again. There was not only that to fear of, there was also my father. Ever since I ran away, he had tried to find me. He had come to the Opera House on several occasions. I would always hide backstage or run out from the streets to the dorm to out wait him, sometimes for hours, until he left. I was afraid that he would seek me out on the streets one day and enforce me to come back home through a violent manner. I wouldn't put such an action past his morals.

I glanced over my shoulder often, hoping that no one would come in my direction. I did behold someone in the distance in front of me. He was not looking in my direction, but I noticed him.

When I was a child, my mother read me tales of Greek mythology. My favorite was a god named Apollo: the god of the sun. He was described as beautiful and solemn, strong and faithful. Somehow Apollo entered my mind when I saw this man.

He could barely be called a man, he could be mistaken for a boy. He wore a severe grimace, one that seemed permanently imprinted and far too elderly for someone of his age. He was incredibly handsome, however, which was what caused the Apollo imagery. He wore a fine red coat, a blue cravat and black trousers and boots. His head was adorned with blonde curls and he walked with an air of certainty. I caught a breath whilst gazing at this man, but he turned once and captured my stare. I gasped and turned away, taking an alternate route.

The alternate route was a mistake, I learned immediately when a man came before me and shoved me to the ground. I collided with the rough cobblestone but scramble to my feet in a hurry, but then I realized; the money!

The man held onto my pouch and I immediately stood and foolishly enough, attempted to wrench it from him. He held it teasingly high above the reach of my stature and laughed at my feeble attempts to retain it from him.

"No, sir! Please! I need to but food for my friends, they'll starve without it!" I begged uselessly. I doubted that he would easily concede at my weak pleas. He only laughed again and spat in my face. I wiped the saliva away and I felt shame and humiliation. Above all, I felt the need for redemption and I slapped the man, my nails digging into his skin and leaving bloody trails. I yelled out into the air, loud enough that my vocal chords nearly shredded.

"Thief! Thief on the loose!"

I felt a slap and I cried for help, but feared that no one would hear, that no one would help. Tears began to stream down my face as the stinging pain lingered. I collided with the ground, frantically searching for my money only to realize that the thief still had my pouch in his possession. A breeze chilled my skin and I reached to button my coat, but found that I had somehow ripped it during my harsh landing on the ground. My heart sank, it would take me months to save for a new coat.

"Monsiuer, I reccommend that you return her money." A voice came from behind the thief and a silhouette to match wrenched the thief back by his own collar and met his cheek with a blow from his clenched fist. I decided to run and aid my rescuer, though I wasn't going to be of much help considering that he had already brought the thief to his knees as I reached him.

"Monsieur! Have mercy! I was only trying to stop this viper from robbing me, you can see from the scratches that she attacked me." The theif accused me falsely.

"What?" I exclaimed out loud, hoping my torn coat and whatever evidence of abuse and tears left on my face would prove my innocence."He lies! I'm from the Paris Opera ballet, I have been sent to buy food for the company."

I stepped closer to see my rescuer, perhaps if he could look into my eyes more clearly, then he could find truth in them. I found that my rescuer was, in fact, the handsome Apollo I had seen previously. He had an arm wrapped around the thief's neck not tightly enough to prevent a flow of oxygen but enough to prevent escape. He looked at me for a long moment, still holding onto the man. "Please, dear Monsieur, believe me. I would never wish harm upon someone."

Tears began to flow from my eyes and again I wiped them away with a battered sleeve. I shivered again and tried to pull my equally battered coat front over my body. The man's severe visage softened as he looked at me, the gentle look on his face caused a nervous tingle in my stomach. I didn't feel nervous about being suspected for the thievery, but it felt of more of an excited energy. He then pulled my coin pouch out of his pocket.

"I do believe you, Mademoiselle, unless this man likes to carry around a purse."

I couldn't help but laugh lightly, but the humor did not translate well to the thief, for he snarled at me and attempted to escape from the man to lunge at me, his hands tightened as if he were hoping to wring my throat. My rescuer pulled the man back and punched him to the cobblestone with a deafening crack.

"You broke my nose!" The thief exclaimed as torrid blood spouted down his nose and mouth.

"I'll break more if you attempt to harm a lady again." The man said.

I overheard voices shouting in the distance. The police! It had to be them, along with the infamous Inspector. Surely he would bring justice to this awful matter. The thief ran for it, cradling his bleeding nose and vanishing into the dead of the night. I exhaled another fog of relief.

"Mademoiselle, I believe this is yours." The blonde man extended his hand to me and I saw that in his palm was my money. I gingerly took it from him and found that not a single coin had been lost.

"Oh, thank you! Bless you, Monsieur! I don't know what I would have done. Shouldn't we report the theif? I believe the Inspector is coming." 

His eyes widened. "The Inspector is coming?" He asked with a sudden tone of panic.

"I believe so." I responded. I suddenly felt panicked, myself. A man would only fear an encounter with the law if he had broken it somehow. 

"Mademoiselle, we cannot stay here! Quickly, come with me! Hurry!" He urged me to follow him, taking ahold of my hand without forewarning. He led me away from the street at a mad pace.