Published April 5, 2013

Montparnasse had some bond, some closeness, with Thénardier's children, mainly because he was closer to their ages than to the others in the gang. He found Gavroche alternately amusing and helpful, albeit sometimes annoying.

Of the two daughters, he preferred the elder, Eponine, mostly because she was closer to his age and more responsive to him. She was young, curious, and flirtatious. And he had been the only one really available to her.

Humor me. Teach me. He had complied, showing her how to tease and flirt and coax. Neither of them cared enough about the other to seek them out; but when they saw each other, they got on well enough. Perhaps they had been more than friends, yet they had remained less than lovers. It never came to more than a few kisses. Montparnasse had lost interest when he realized that Eponine still had some ideas about finding romance and love; she didn't want to have him just for the sake of having someone.

Montparnasse found them in the immediate aftermath of the insurrection, while he and other thieves scattered about Paris were scavenging and looting the dead bodies and barricades. He chanced to enter the Corinth when the soldiers had exited the building; he saw Gavroche lying next to a dead elderly man.

After his initial surprise, Montparnasse felt some pity and disappointment when he saw the child's body. Gavroche had been a good kid. He'd been reliable enough to call upon for help in Patron-Minette's breakout. He would have made a great thief, if he had lived long enough. No doubt he had been swept up in the excitement of the insurrection, the riots that were supposed to be a revolution.

"You had a good run, gamin," Montparnasse said aloud to the dead body. Then he quietly went out of the wineshop.

Another shock lay outside in the muddy puddles of rain and blood. There was a body lying there, dressed in a boy's clothes; but its hair was long, and the face was thin and feminine. Montparnasse recognize her. It was Eponine.

The last time he'd seen her had been just a few nights ago, when she boldly stood up to Patron-Minette for some unfathomable reason that they could not deduce. Why had she done that? And how had she ended up in a barricade?

Montparnasse supposed he would never know the answers. He sighed and touched the girl's forehead, brushing her dirty hair out of her face. At least it hadn't been a dull death. She hadn't frozen or starved slowly on the street. She had probably died being a part of something—something bigger than herself. Yes, Montparnasse thought, she would have liked that romantic idea.

"Au revoir, Eponine," Montparnasse said. "Until we meet again."

If he did see them again, it would most likely be in Hell. At least that gave him something to look forward to.