Jealousy
We do not choose where we find love. I did not choose to love her, but the fates had willed it so. So here I stand, in love with a woman who cares naught for me. Had it been a scarce year ago that I had first noticed the pale little face at the top of the stairwell as it peered down on the students who gathered regularly at the tavern, the large round eyes glancing to and fro, seeking, until they had found and singled out the figure of my good friend, Marius. The next time I saw her was as she waited in the shadows outside the school gates to "accidentally" bump into Marius as he left school for the day. After that she was there everyday waiting for him, trying valiantly to win his favour by running little errands for him. And when we visited the tavern, she was always there, waiting on him constantly, a little puppy ever eager to please.
We do not choose where we find love. Eponine, as she was called, was no beauty alas, in fact she was rather plain, or at least all the other boys thought her so. But from the first time I'd seen her I was inexplicably drawn to her. Perhaps it was her smile, a tiny quirk of the lips that went largely unnoticed in a sea of wide boyish grins, perhaps it was her laugh, a little sound that sounded like the tinkling of bells. Whatever it was that made her so attractive to me, it was clear, by the time I caught myself attempting the writing of romantic poetry, that I was truly and utterly in love with little Eponine. Sweet 'ponine, thoughts of whom invaded my sleep turning the worst of nightmares into dreams of bliss, whose presence could render me speechless, whose smile filled my darkest hours with heavenly light, whose heart belonged solely to Marius.
It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair. She was in love, desperately in love. That much was crystal clear. With Marius. Marius who had everything, looks and charm, intelligence and wit. Marius , who everyone admired and loved, who she loved. I knew I didn't stand a chance. For months I silently let the vile taste of jealousy well up in my heart, jealousy so vile it turned the friendship I had long felt for Marius to anger and hate. How many times when he snubbed her had I wanted to burst out and strike him, to call him out and duel with him for her love, how, many times the jealousy had very nearly overwhelmed me, driving me to insanity and thoughts of murder. But 'ponine loved him, and for her sake I remained silent, repressing my feelings, hoping no one noticed. They did not; they had so much on their minds as it was.
For years now the people on the streets, the common people in our nation, the poor, the starving, had talked of revolting against our colonial masters, the upper classes of the French Empire, but for years we had had nothing to unite us, no one to rally to. Now the time had come, the legendary General Lamarque had passed away, his death uniting us all, inciting us to revolt, to fight for our freedom. Barricades had been built, firearms and ammunition collected, food stored and ration. Then at the dawn of a new year we struck. Caught by surprise, the National Guard was easily defeated at first but as time wore on, it became clear that we were going to lose. Yet we were determined to fight to the end.
It was in the dark of the hours before dawn that one of our men spotted a figure climbing over the barricade, over to our side. It was Eponine. She had crept alone through the dark streets of the damaged city, right through the camps of the National Guard, risking her life and limb, to see Marius. The moment we saw her we rushed forward to pull her in to the safety of the barricade before the enemy's sentries spotted her. We were too late.
She lies there now, dying, in Marius's arms. I stand here speechless, watching him cradling her, while i long to reach out and hold her, listening to him whisper sweet words of love to her, begging her not to die, while I long to tell her of my own love for her. Then she is gone.
Marius raises his head and the vile jealousy in my heart disappears at the sight of his eyes. Red and tear-filled and from his very soul, the light of a love he has not known till now shining in them.
We do not choose where we find love. I did not choose to love her, but the fates had willed it so. So here I stand, in love with a woman who cares naught for me. Had it been a scarce year ago that I had first noticed the pale little face at the top of the stairwell as it peered down on the students who gathered regularly at the tavern, the large round eyes glancing to and fro, seeking, until they had found and singled out the figure of my good friend, Marius. The next time I saw her was as she waited in the shadows outside the school gates to "accidentally" bump into Marius as he left school for the day. After that she was there everyday waiting for him, trying valiantly to win his favour by running little errands for him. And when we visited the tavern, she was always there, waiting on him constantly, a little puppy ever eager to please.
We do not choose where we find love. Eponine, as she was called, was no beauty alas, in fact she was rather plain, or at least all the other boys thought her so. But from the first time I'd seen her I was inexplicably drawn to her. Perhaps it was her smile, a tiny quirk of the lips that went largely unnoticed in a sea of wide boyish grins, perhaps it was her laugh, a little sound that sounded like the tinkling of bells. Whatever it was that made her so attractive to me, it was clear, by the time I caught myself attempting the writing of romantic poetry, that I was truly and utterly in love with little Eponine. Sweet 'ponine, thoughts of whom invaded my sleep turning the worst of nightmares into dreams of bliss, whose presence could render me speechless, whose smile filled my darkest hours with heavenly light, whose heart belonged solely to Marius.
It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair. She was in love, desperately in love. That much was crystal clear. With Marius. Marius who had everything, looks and charm, intelligence and wit. Marius , who everyone admired and loved, who she loved. I knew I didn't stand a chance. For months I silently let the vile taste of jealousy well up in my heart, jealousy so vile it turned the friendship I had long felt for Marius to anger and hate. How many times when he snubbed her had I wanted to burst out and strike him, to call him out and duel with him for her love, how, many times the jealousy had very nearly overwhelmed me, driving me to insanity and thoughts of murder. But 'ponine loved him, and for her sake I remained silent, repressing my feelings, hoping no one noticed. They did not; they had so much on their minds as it was.
For years now the people on the streets, the common people in our nation, the poor, the starving, had talked of revolting against our colonial masters, the upper classes of the French Empire, but for years we had had nothing to unite us, no one to rally to. Now the time had come, the legendary General Lamarque had passed away, his death uniting us all, inciting us to revolt, to fight for our freedom. Barricades had been built, firearms and ammunition collected, food stored and ration. Then at the dawn of a new year we struck. Caught by surprise, the National Guard was easily defeated at first but as time wore on, it became clear that we were going to lose. Yet we were determined to fight to the end.
It was in the dark of the hours before dawn that one of our men spotted a figure climbing over the barricade, over to our side. It was Eponine. She had crept alone through the dark streets of the damaged city, right through the camps of the National Guard, risking her life and limb, to see Marius. The moment we saw her we rushed forward to pull her in to the safety of the barricade before the enemy's sentries spotted her. We were too late.
She lies there now, dying, in Marius's arms. I stand here speechless, watching him cradling her, while i long to reach out and hold her, listening to him whisper sweet words of love to her, begging her not to die, while I long to tell her of my own love for her. Then she is gone.
Marius raises his head and the vile jealousy in my heart disappears at the sight of his eyes. Red and tear-filled and from his very soul, the light of a love he has not known till now shining in them.