Cold Angels, Chapter 6
A/N: Another short one.
He did not wake her at dawn that next morning, but left for work without seeing her. She awoke near nine and came downstairs to find Mme. Jules and ask for a bit of late breakfast. The older woman left for the kitchen and returned with a small, paper-wrapped bundle, containing one of the sugared-almond confections from the Patisserie.
“I think,” she said knowingly, “He is apologizing for his manner last night.”
Cosette had to smile as a bit of the airy bread dissolved on her tongue, giving way to the cream inside.
“Will you sit with me?” she asked, and Mme. Jules looked at first surprised, then pleased.
“Perhaps in a month or so, Ma’m’selle will have convinced him to begin buying sugar.”
Cosette laughed. “I doubt the horsemen of the Apocalypse could convince him of such a frivolous purchase…unless it somehow worked out to cost less than the pastries in the long run.”
Mme. Jules smiled. “Monsieur Javert is a sensible man,” she nodded, “He was not born into any sort of luxury, and I believe he takes great pains to ensure he will never fall prey to poverty again.”
“Again?”
“Monsieur’s life began much the same as your own, Ma’m’selle.”
“How so?”
“You should ask him yourself…there is much you could learn from your future husband, if you would seek his counsel.”
Cosette chewed her lip and stared down at her half-eaten breakfast. “When is the wedding?” she asked quietly.
“Three days.”
“Three days,” she repeated, “I don’t suppose much will change.”
“On the contrary, Ma’m’selle. I think it will change everything.”
He did not wake her at dawn that next morning, but left for work without seeing her. She awoke near nine and came downstairs to find Mme. Jules and ask for a bit of late breakfast. The older woman left for the kitchen and returned with a small, paper-wrapped bundle, containing one of the sugared-almond confections from the Patisserie.
“I think,” she said knowingly, “He is apologizing for his manner last night.”
Cosette had to smile as a bit of the airy bread dissolved on her tongue, giving way to the cream inside.
“Will you sit with me?” she asked, and Mme. Jules looked at first surprised, then pleased.
“Perhaps in a month or so, Ma’m’selle will have convinced him to begin buying sugar.”
Cosette laughed. “I doubt the horsemen of the Apocalypse could convince him of such a frivolous purchase…unless it somehow worked out to cost less than the pastries in the long run.”
Mme. Jules smiled. “Monsieur Javert is a sensible man,” she nodded, “He was not born into any sort of luxury, and I believe he takes great pains to ensure he will never fall prey to poverty again.”
“Again?”
“Monsieur’s life began much the same as your own, Ma’m’selle.”
“How so?”
“You should ask him yourself…there is much you could learn from your future husband, if you would seek his counsel.”
Cosette chewed her lip and stared down at her half-eaten breakfast. “When is the wedding?” she asked quietly.
“Three days.”
“Three days,” she repeated, “I don’t suppose much will change.”
“On the contrary, Ma’m’selle. I think it will change everything.”