Les Miserables Love Story: Patria

Chapter Six: Where Are the Leaders of the Land?

Finally, we were permitted our first day off in what seemed like ages. Sylvia begged me to come with her to look at clothing we could only dream of affording. I agreed, but only if she would let me sketch somewhere. I felt a bit more secure about walking about today, Madame Beareux had given each of the girls a new dress and shawl from an old trunk of hers. Technically, the dresses weren't new and they were plain and simple, but they were grand and new to us.

There were no red dresses, so I chose a blue dress that went well with my red shawl but I also selected a grey shawl. Sylvia chose a green dress and a brown shawl. I had suggested to Sylvia that we pawn the shawls because the ones we had were in decent condition. She was thrilled by the idea and we made that a chore for our day.

Once I stepped out, I began to rush down the streets, taking in the crisp autumn air and letting it flow through my lungs. The world around me was a perfect portrait of yellow leaves spotted upon the Seine and wandering pedestrians in their overcoats and skirts ruffled by the gentle breeze.

"Patria, slow down, you're walking so quickly!" Sylvia chastised as she struggled to keep up with my eager pace. A bright leaf blew into her face and she sputtered as she batted it away. 

"Isn't the fresh air liberating?" I took a deep breath of it around me. A smile permeated onto her face and skipped up beside me. I slowed down so we could both appreciate the scenery. 

Though I had lived in Paris all of my life and never once left, I allowed myself to become acquainted with it as I walked. The city brimmed with life from the merchants selling their goods as the best price they could manage, the children running through the streets playing games with small toys or make believe if they could afford none. I stared enviously at an elegant café wherein affluent ladies and gentlemen with starched skirts and collars sat in polished chairs and drank teas from china teacups in pastel colors and dined on dainty, mouthwatering delicacies. I forced myself to look away, for I knew that was a life I was not destined to have. 

Sylvia and I first stopped by a pawn shop near the Opera House. A lady must have taken pity on us and paid us each eight francs for our shawls. We had never had so much money to call our own before; we felt as rich as the king of France himself.

"Where to next, Patria?" Sylvia giggled with abounding glee as she listened to the tinkering of the coins clutched in her palm. 

"To the dress shops, then perhaps a bookstore! Then I want to walk by the cafe and sketch."

"Do you think we'll meet any gentlemen today?"

"We shall see." I responded nonchalantly to disguise any optimism of possibly seeing Enjolras again. It had been one week since he invited me to the meeting at the ABC café. So far, no other communication would be made and I was slightly worrisome that Enjolras did not want to see me again. In a way, it made sense, he seemed far too severe and fierce to care about my lonely soul.

Sylvia and I did not linger for too long at the dress shop. We merely peaked through the windows at the clothing of grandeur before walking away to find something actually in our price range. We wandered through streets that were surprisingly scarce of people, and we soon figured out why. As we continued, we began to hear a mob chanting and yelling.

"When will this end?"

"Something's got to give!"

"Maybe if the king got off his fat hindquarters, we could do something about this!"

I was infatuated by this crowd, their energy gave off an intensive feeling that was palpable. I knew immediately that the rally involved politics and I wanted to learn more. Sylvia began to tug at my sleeve. "Come now, Patria, let's go."