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The snow fell thick outside the Gillenormond windows, obscuring the Paris streets from view. Cosette sat plaintively on the chaise, gazing at the white swirling beyond the glass.

"It's so beautiful," she said, pressing her fingertips to the pane. "But it all turns to much on the city streets."

"Mustn't touch the glass, dear," Aunt Gillenormond said. "It will streak."

Cosette pulled her hand away and turned to face the room. The feast of the epiphany had passed them by, taking with it all the Christmas decorations.

"I want to go out," she whispered, giving up on the sentiment before it was out of her mouth.

"What was that?" Aunt Gillenormond said without looking up from her needlework.

Cosette was about to say, "nothing," when her father came into the room, Marius in tow.

"We're going to eat in an hour," Marius said. "Grandfather said to tell you."

"Have you been outside?" Cosette said.

Marius looked at the windows. His eyes widened when he took in the weather and he inhaled through his teeth, making a hiss of apprehension mixed with dread. "It looks awful out there."

"I want to walk about," she said. "I love the snow."

Her father smiled.

"Papa, please?"

"It is very cold, Cosette," he said in a soft voice. She could not help but notice how feeble he had seemed lately, growing cold easily and tiring just after dark. This only made her press harder, as if by sheer will she could combat these creeping signs of age.

"Please. I want nothing more." She crossed the room and gripped his arm. "Papa, if you loved me at all, you would take me."

He grinned that sad smile, the one that made her think she was missing something.

"Why don't you ask Monsieur Pontmercy to take you?"

Cosette stepped back, looking at Marius. He seemed just as confused as she. "You mean, walk by ourselves?"

Her father shrugged. "It's terrible out. I don't want to go. If you must, at least as a young man. An old man like me shouldn't face these conditions."

The weather beyond the windows looked terrible to Marius. He eyed the freezing atmosphere with dread, but when Cosette turned to him, expectant and excited, he could not bear to disappoint her.

"Alright," he said. "Let me get my coat."

Outside, Cosette skipped off the front step and turned in a circle, her coat floating out around her.

"I love the snow!" she exclaimed.

It was not so bad; it was the type of snow that fell in thick, dry flakes that did not pain the skin. There was little wind, just enough to toss the white dots around through the air. It made a delightful picture behind Cosette's head, donned in a navy velvet hat, her mouth open to let the flakes fall onto her tongue.

When they had passed the view of the house, Marius could resist no longer – the sight of her pretty lips parted was torment – he approached and kissed her.

Cosette giggled, but pulled away, taken aback. She scolded. "Monsieur!"

"I am sorry," he said, but he was not. She opened her mouth once more, and he looked at her pink tongue, sticking out between her teeth, and wondered what it would be like to run his own against it. Or feel it running on other parts of his body.

"Let's walk to the river," he said.

It was only ten minutes to the river, and they were grateful for the escape from the confines of the Gillenormond home. Cosette, having forgiven Marius for his brazen kiss, took his arm and nestled close. When they approached the river, the wind picked up, the buildings no longer shielding them. Cosette pulled the brim of her hat down.

A man was selling books in a wooden stand, braving the cold. Like Cosette, he held his hat down and turned away from the wind.

"Monsieur, Madame," he said. "Good afternoon!"

Marius and Cosette looked at each other – what a pleasure it was, to be greeted that way! Marius, ever the honest man, opened his mouth to correct the man, and inform him they were simply betrothed, but he didn't get that far.

"It is a good afternoon, isn't it?" Cosette said. "My husband and I were out for a stroll and saw you by your stand. We were positively astonished that you had managed to brave this weather! So we thought, we do owe him some business, don't we?"

They had not had such a conversation, but Marius was used to this by now; Cosette had a habit of playful conversation that he knew was not fictional, but merely the way the inside of her head sounded. He had no doubt that Cosette had made this decision, and lumped him into it by virtue of the fact that she knew he always relented to her. A part of him wondered if he should put a stop to this, in case it caused problems later in her marriage – as her husband, wasn't he expected to set certain boundaries? But Cosette was perfect, and thus everything she decided was good and right. There was no point in stifling her. Marius looked on while she browsed the books, then struck up a conversation with the bookseller.

Cosette presented the man with a small stack of books.

"I picked out some boring ones for you, Marius," she said. "Just the kind you like."

"Thank you, dear," he said, and paid.