Memoirs of Les Amis de l'ABC

Chapter Twenty-Three: Snow Angels

"Don't say that," challenged Courfeyrac.

"Why?" shrugged Grantaire. "I merely mean that no woman behaves as such as she. She is too forward, too blunt, too conniving, and too political to belong to her fairer sex."

"You know nothing," replied Courfeyrac. "She is every piece woman though lacks the silliness ingrained in some of her gender."

"You love her?"

Courfeyrac froze for a moment before shaking his head. "Of course not, dear fellow," replied Courfeyrac. He shook his head, took a swig from the bottle, then added, "I do fear I shall never find love in this convoluted world."

"Love?" gagged Grantaire. "There's a weighty word. Four letters that conceal the depth of emotion necessitated, the pursuit anticipated, and the bliss of reciprocation."

Courfeyrac clapped drunkenly for the man's speech. "Bravo, my secret poet. Though I simply must ask, how do you speak so beautifully of love yet never does a woman come near?" Courfeyrac's eyes narrowed at Grantaire as he tried to discern the man's love until he gasped. "The Jondrette girl! Éponine! Just last week I caught her leaving your premises early in the morning." Courfeyrac chuckled heartily as Grantaire moved to interrupt him. "You rapscallion! You have a woman married to your bed and not to your hand. A marvel, you trickster!"

"I beg you to not speak of the Jondrette girl," replied Grantaire in a voice so low Courfeyrac needed to lean in across the table. "One never knows who may listen, and, true, I fear for her life at any instance. Her wicked father cast her out of her shelter when I offered her a reprieve from prostitution to sick sailors. I take her downfall upon myself, and I demanded she live in my apartment in a very separate room from mine own." Grantaire sneered at Courfeyrac's surprised reaction. "My love is not one to touch."

Courfeyrac clicked his tongue. "Ah, so you do love?" he replied, choosing to drop the discussion of the Jondrette girl until a private location be acquired.

"Aye," replied Grantaire slowly. "Aye, I do," he remarked, grabbing the bottle to drink.

"Who?" demanded Courfeyrac. "Not the Jondrette girl?"

"No."

"Not Madame Dubois?" teased Courfeyrac.

"No," laughed Grantaire. "She does not even tolerate me, and I do believe she must be over one hundred years old for all her false wisdom and strange confidence."

"Muischetta?"

"No."

"What other women are you near?" scoffed Courfeyrac. "The only I could surmise would be the younger Jondrette girl, Cosette Fauchelevent and Sybill?" Courfeyrac banged his fist upon the wooden table in a moment of sudden decision. "That's the one! Sybill!"

"That witch?" laughed Grantaire.

"Oh, come off it!" quipped Courfeyrac. "You always tease her, you dislike my speaking of her, you advocated her permanent banishment from Café Musain. Who else? Why would you speak so harshly of a woman you know not? It must be you feel afraid at your love!"

Grantaire groaned. "Never could I love such a preposterous, self-righteous creature," he complained. "Besides, I do not like brunettes."

"Then who?" demanded Courfeyrac. Grantaire shrugged. Courfeyrac sighed, "Do you speak to any more women?" Slowly, Grantaire shook his head in response. Courfeyrac groaned in frustration and remained quiet for a moment until a thought occurred.

"Grantaire," he nearly murmured. "Doth your affection perhaps...is it for not a woman?" Grantaire grimaced and took another swig from the bottle as he contemplated a response although his actions proved words enough to Courfeyrac. "And you do not like brunettes," added Courfeyrac slowly as he realized who Grantaire had been discussing.