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cracking marble
act three, spring
chapter sixteen, going courting

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(       mai , 1832      )

THE LAST DAYS of April seemed dull in comparison to the month of May that followed, where the showery days transitioned seamlessly into ones where sun seemed ever-shining.

Seven days had passed since the blissful haven that was the wedding, six days since Joly and Musichetta had left for their honeymoon and five days since Enjolras had been declared as medically fit and fully recovered from his injury. Which, in turn, meant that it was four days since the meetings of Les Amis de l'ABC had got their fearless leader back and, without the distraction of the wedding, planning for the revolution had once more flooded their lives; the judgement day was fast approaching.

Enjolras' hiatus from the meetings had almost caused them to lose their realism. With all due respect to Combeferre, without Enjolras their talk of revolution seemed impossible and child's play, but the second the marble man reappeared in the Musain, Mathilde found herself reminded of just how real their intentions were.

To say she was frightened at first was an understatement, the previous four months she'd been living in a bubble where there was no talk of revolution or violence or martyrisations, and the revolutionary in her hated herself for being so content with that. However, it didn't take long for her fear to fade as she was reminded through Enjolras' rousing speech — which he had been drafting for the last four months anxiously awaiting his return — just why the revolution was needed and why she was so passionate about seeing it happen.

A lot can change in seven days. Not just the weather or the month, the daylight or the sun's rays. But a whole lifestyle; one that Mathilde still had to figure out. Despite things almost returning to normal before his injury, the blonde hadn't quite negotiated how her new found relationship with Enjolras would fit into said lifestyle, and what the revolution would mean for the two of them. However, she convinced herself not to dwell on the future but to instead simply face the present and take everything as it came.

It was Sunday, meaning the bronzy glow of the afternoon sun lit up the vendors in the market place in Saint Michel who were having to close up early on this day of rest.

It was fairly deserted, unlike the time Mathilde had previously attended this particular market, she stifled a soft giggle, thinking fondly of the memory.

"What is it?" Enjolras asked gently, looking down at her, head resting against his shoulder as they strolled along arm in arm.

"I'd never thought I'd miss the day when Joly ran through the doors of the Musain screaming about my imminent death." The blonde confided in him, letting out a light sigh mixed with a chuckle.

"You surely don't?" Enjolras replied, with a light smile dancing on his lips, as he digested what the girl on his arm had just said.

"What can I say?" She shrugged, "I suppose I miss him, and his absurd hypochondria. Something doesn't feel the same without him here."

The last seven days had indeed felt lacking without the presence of their resident doctor, which only highlighted to Mathilde that comradeship and closeness that their society had, and how the absence of a single member left a crack in its foundation. 

"Surely you miss him too, Enjolras." She went on, lifting her head from his shoulder in order to look at him with a quirked brow.

"Well, alright." He conceded, "Fine, I suppose it would be nice to see the man again."

Satisfied with his answer, Mathilde spared him a grin before reinstating her head back into the crook of his shoulder.

"I have never known a week to last so long." She sighed, "I hear the seamstresses are quite put out by Chetta's absence too."

"Is that so?" Enjolras implored, as their pace slowed slightly allowing for them to acknowledge their surroundings, still lit up in a fading orange glow. "Even your little nemesis?"

The blonde stifled a warm chuckle and rolled her eyes, lifting her head off his shoulder once more in order to address him clearly.

"Roselle is not my nemesis. We just don't exactly see eye to eye, that's all." She explained with a light shrug, "Besides, Margaux tells me that they've not seen very much of her. She's spending most of her time with her new beau."

It suddenly became clear to him just what Mathilde meant, as Roselle's affections had been another thing to change in the span of time since the wedding. While the pair were overjoyed that their meddling caused Roselle's affection for him to cease, Mathilde still couldn't help feel bad about who it had transferred to and the implications that would have on others.

"Do you believe he returns her affection?" Enjolras asked, snapping the blonde out of her brief daze.

I pondered the question for a moment with a furrowed brow.

"I can't say."

Marius didn't seem as changed as one might expect from one in love, but that didn't stop him from revelling in Roselle's blatant affection.

"But I certainly believe he likes the attention." Mathilde added, for good measure.

"I'd almost feel sorry for the boy if he weren't such an imbecile at times." Enjolras remarked, his gaze slightly skyward, steely eyes following the sunset.

"Maybe." Mathilde replied, before holding onto his arm a little more tightly. "But at least this way Roselle's attention is no longer on you."

A throaty chuckle escaped the marble man's mouth, a challenging look gleaming in his eyes.

"Do I sense some jealousy, Mademoiselle?"

The blonde returned his look, a smirk gracing her lips, deciding it was best not to deny such a thing.

"Perhaps." She shrugged, with a small chuckle. "But I meant it more for your sake."

He quirked a brow at her excuse, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well I thought the attention made you quite unnerved." Mathilde went on, feigning innocence.

"Not always." The marble man commented, as the two of them stopped in our tracks. "I do like attention, I suppose it just depends on who it's from."

His tender eyes met hers and no words were needed for a moment as he pressed his lips to her temple lightly as she rested my head back into the crook of his shoulder, deeply inhaling.

"What a lovely evening it is." Mathilde smiled, speaking a small voice she knew only he would be able to hear.

"Indeed." He agreed.

The blonde's eyes surveyed the vendors packing up with stalls together in the amber glow of the sunset, emitting cheery laugh and well wishes amongst each other as they went.

A smile crossed Mathilde's feature as she reminded herself of some of the goodness that still existed and didn't call for an impending revolution.

"Who will buy this wonderful evening?" She sang softly, nestling into Enjolras embrace as they spectated for a few more moments. "Such a sky you never did see. Who will tie it up with a ribbon? And put it in a box for me."

Enjolras hummed warmly in response to her melodic tone before continuing on the song.

  "So I could see it at my leisure whenever things go wrong." The blonde could feel his head move slightly, feeling his strong gaze upon her. "And keep it as a treasure to last my whole life long."

Mathilde removed her head from his shoulder, inhaling slowly once more, moving her hand down to intertwine with his.

  "Who will buy this wonderful feeling? I'm so high I swear I could fly." Enjolras' chuckle enticed her to finish the melody she'd started, "Me oh my, I don't want to lose it. So what am I to do to keep this day from being through?"

His eyes met hers for a moment, as he sang the last line with her in perfect harmony.

  "There must be someone who will buy."

A small satisfied hum left her as their song concluded, Enjolras pressing a light kiss to her lips.

He spared the blonde a soft smile, taking her hand in his and restarting their walk, passing through the square.

"I heard a rumour that I meant to tell you about." The marble man said suddenly, earning instant intrigue from the blonde beside him.

"Is that so?"

"Apparently, number fifty five Rue Plumet has been sold." Enjolras stated, looking at her to gauge some sort of reaction.

She didn't really have one initially, the house next door to hers — or what once was hers — had been empty as long as she'd known, with the exception of the old gentleman who had lived there when she was but five years old. It was hardly an appealing house, and had aged with the time it had been abandoned for.

"I see." She replied; it was the only response she could seem to muster regarding the situation.

Clearing her throat, Mathilde spared the marble man a small smile.

"Well, I can't say they'll have the most welcoming neighbours but I hope they settle in well all the same."

Enjolras nodded, digesting her response and was quiet for a few moments; their arms swung in tandem as they progressed across the cobblestones.

"Do you miss it?" He asked suddenly.

"Miss what?"

"I mean, do you wish you still lived there? In that grand house?" He looked at the blonde earnestly, as if already anticipating an answer for his query. "It's quite a trifle better than the life you get out here."

Halting in her tracks, Mathilde kept a firm grip on his hand to hold him back with her. She squared her jaw, his ocean blue eyes meeting her ones of hazel which held the solemnity and sincerity that her following words would further convey.

"I wouldn't change a thing." She said simply, grasping his hands. "My life gained more purpose the second I stepped out of those doors than it had ever had before."

In earnest, there was some truth in his sentiment. The life the blonde was now living was very different to the one she had grown up and had been accustomed to, but the thought of going back to that house and everything that went with it was simply out of the question.

"Truly, it was hypocritical for me to say I wanted change for the poor when I undertook no part in their suffering." Mathilde explained to the marble man, "Of course, I'm hardly suffering now, not by a long stretch. But I know how it feels just to scrape by now."

She paused in order to take a breath, her shoulders rising as she inhaled and sinking slowly as she exhaled.

"Money and big houses mean very little to me," the blonde told Enjolras with a content smile, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, "I have all I need and that is enough."

He spared her a soft smile, before she finally answered his query.

"So no, I don't miss it."

"I'm glad to hear it." He replied after a moment, the two of them still rooted to the spot where Mathilde had stopped them seconds previously. "You belong here with us, and that's the truth."

Hearing his open acceptance made the blonde's heart grow warm, the feeling stirring deep in her chest. Her mind was racing at the blatant love she possessed but could not find the right way to express.

"I do wonder who would buy such a place, it's been deserted for years." Mathilde changed the topic back to the house, attempting to distract herself from her emotions, as they continued on their walk once more, turning a corner out of the square. "It's hardly an attractive buy."

"Maybe whoever bought it doesn't want to attract attention." Enjolras answered perceptively, a very plausible explanation for the purchase. 

She gave a small nod in an agreement.

  "Maybe."

The blonde's right hand found itself wrapping around Enjolras' arm as they walked in a comfortable silence, their footsteps falling in synchronicity as they progressed along the cobbled streets.

Looking up ahead of them and narrowing her eyes slightly, Mathilde recognised a figure approaching, walking so delicately she may as well have been on glass.

"Evangeline?" The blonde called, loosening her grip on Enjolras' arm as she craned her neck in order to be sure it was the seamstress in question who was walking in the opposite direction to them.

"Mathilde?" She heard her composed voice respond as she came closer and became clearer to the blonde, her gentle smile gracing her lips as she acknowledged the pair. "Oh, hello!"

"Hello." Enjolras replied, politely, despite her greeting being primarily directed at Mathilde. Nevertheless she still spared him a soft smile, as the blonde joined their hands in greeting.

"What brings you out at this time?" Mathilde questioned, noting that Saint Michel was not exactly a setting that one depicted Evangeline in, with her angelic features contrasting massively to the dingy landscape of this part of town.

"Oh nothing especially," The seamstress shrugged, "I thought I'd wander around the market for a little while." She explained, gently squeezing the blonde's hands before letting them go. "And you both?"

The question was open to both of them, so Mathilde spared a soft look at Enjolras, inviting him to answer on their behalf.

"We've just returned from the bookshop, mademoiselle." He explained, as the blonde waved the book she'd been holding gently to prove their case.

"Ah, and what book is it your disposal now Mathilde?" Evangeline humoured the girl, to which she responded with a small chuckle, still presenting the book to her.

"The Winter's Tale." Mathilde answered concisely, showing her the book's title.

"Ah, Apollo's angry, and the heavens themselves. Do strike at my injustice." She quoted, rather confidently but still sought out some reassurance by looking at the blonde before her.

"Very good." Mathilde nodded, another chuckle escaping her lips, rather enjoying the encounter.

"Have you read it before?" She asked, spurring on the conversation.

"Quite a while ago, I'm afraid." The blonde answered, honestly with a sheepish grin. "So I thought I'd give it another go."

"Lovely."

A sharp cough intruded the conversation, as Enjolras made his presence known once more sparing the two women an apologetic smile before continuing.

"Do excuse me, but we have to be at the meeting very soon." He said, reminding the blonde that they were in fact in a bit of a rush now that they'd dawdled at the market and bumped into Evangeline.

Mathilde gave him a quick nod in agreement before turning back to Evangeline apologetically.

"Oh yes! It was lovely to see you, Evangeline, but we must be going."

Amid her speaking, Enjorlas had already nodded in farewell and was beginning to guide her off, leaving the blonde to say the last part of her goodbye over the her shoulder as they walked away.

"Oh Mathilde!" She cried suddenly, Mathilde felt Enjolras tense as they stopped in their tracks once more. He let out a tiresome sigh, looking at the blonde expectantly.

"I'll be one second, I promise." She pardoned herself to him sternly, in a whisper, before looking back to Evangeline. "Yes?"

"I meant to ask." She began, warmly, "We'll be heading out for a picnic tomorrow, myself and the other seamstresses. To the Luxembourg Gardens. Would you care to join?"

The idea did sound positively delightful as it left her lips, and the weather over the last couple of days had given no indication for rain or clouds to intrude on those plans.

"Why, yes." Mathilde nodded, flattered at the invite, "That does sound positively delightful, thank you."

"You're welcome to attend as well, M'sieur." Evangeline added, rather tentatively, clearing taking note of Enjolras' tense state.

The blonde elbowed him quickly in the side so as to trigger a polite response from him, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle."

"And you're more than welcome to invite the rest of your friends too." She went on, although it seemed to Mathilde that it was added in a much smaller voice than before, noticing a small dusting of pink lacing the tops of the seamstress' cheeks.

"Is that so?" The blonde quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. "I will be sure to pass the message on, at what time shall we see you?"

"Not long after noon, I imagine." She confirmed, a smile forming itself back onto her lips. "We'll be closing the shop for day."

"Well, at least the two of us will see you tomorrow." Mathilde cemented, bringing their conservation to a natural end, as Enjolras began to walk again.

"Goodbye!"

Once her farewell had been voiced, Mathilde whipped her head back around the face Enjolras, tugging him closely.

"Did you see her blush?" She asked, excitedly.

"No, I can't say I particularly noticed." The fearless leader chuckled exasperatedly, seemingly tired of their ladylike interaction; just because he'd cracked it with the blonde did not mean that he had quite got the hang of addressing all women politely.

"I believe the seamstresses to be quite fond of our boys, you know." Mathilde told him, with a smug smirk on her face, as they continued down to the street in the direction of the Musain.

"Is that so?"

"And I equally believe that they may return said affections." She added, her smirk broadening.

"I don't find that hard to believe they do seem quite distracted as of late." Enjolras remarked, validating the blonde's observation as the Musain came into view.

"No more than yourself." She quipped with a small smile, as they took the rest of the walk in stride.

"Well, yes." He acknowledged, bashfully. "But that's due to a good cause."

"Oh yes?" Mathilde smirked as they stopped outside the doors to the Cafe.

The marble man gave the blonde a small nod, before checking around him quickly as pressing his lips to hers.

She reciprocated tenderly into the short kiss, her palm sliding up to cup his cheek in brief moment between them.

They broke apart slowly, he quickly kissed the tip of her nose, causing her to let out a quiet giggle.

"Come on, we really will be late at this rate."

Keeping The Winter's Tale clutched tightly to her chest, Mathilde let his arm go, slightly deflated at the idea of putting on their routine facade once more, as the marble man opened the Café door and she followed him inside leaving the last few streams of sunset glowing in the outside sky.

The Café was not as busy as the blonde had seen it before but by no means was it empty, a few apologies escaped her lips as she squeezed through in order to get to the staircase at the back of the room.

The busy sounds of the Café slowly mingled with the boisterous laughter from the room upstairs, Mathilde felt a smile spread across her lips before she'd even seen their faces.

The pair of them received a warm welcome to the meeting room by the men who had already assembled there. The blonde found herself discarding her shawl quite quickly and placing her book with it upon a surface, the temperature of the room being quite a few degrees above that outside as a result of the number of bodies.

Scanning the room, Mathilde noticed the absence of a particular barking laugh usually accompanied by cynical remarks. Furrowing my brows, she looked at Jehan who had seized her arm upon arrival in greeting.

"Where's R?" She asked him, her tone quite worried; it would have been the first time she didn't see Grantaire at a meeting. "Did he decide not to come?"

"No, he's here." Jehan reassured, nonchalantly, nodding at the window on his left. "Just up on the roof with the children."

Mathilde paused for a moment, just to stomach what he was telling her. She took a deep exhale before looking back at the poet and hearing herself say;

  "The children are on the roof?!"

She let go of his arm in an instant, and proceeded to the window in question; her heart racing faster than she'd ever known it to.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure that was the one thing he told me not to tell you."

Prising the window open with some force, Mathilde lifted it up and looked out in a mild panic, just waiting for her gaze to fall upon one of children hanging by the gutters and Grantaire being too drunk to do anything about it.

"Grantaire!" She called, frustratedly when her gaze failed to see any peril, but instead the three of them curled up together watching the sunset; the two children sitting either side of the cynic with spared the blonde a small wave.

"Darling Mathilde, I thought I heard your dulcet tones!"

"What are you doing?" She asked, her maternal instinct still in full fury, despite her relief at the children not being in any obvious danger, the scenario did not best please her as their designated guardian. "Gavroche, Amélie, come down this instant before you hurt yourselves!"

"Relax, Mathilde." Grantaire shushed the blonde, calmly, raising to his feet on the spot of tiles which seemed bizarrely very firm in their place despite the slanted nature of most of the street. "It's perfectly safe. Come and join us, why don't you?"

"Oh please, Mathilde?!" The children chorused in an excited cry at Grantaire's proposal, "Please, please! You'll like it, I promise!"

"Oh, alright." The blonde let out a defeated sigh, as she placed one foot on the window sill and slowly manoeuvred her way through the opening the window allowed. She rose her feet as steadily as she could manage, "But I don't appreciate this reckless behaviour, Grantaire."

"Well maybe you should." He replied, as she walked across the flat part of roof before taking his outstretched hand, helping her to balance on the tiles. "What's life without a little risk, huh?"

Mathilde rolled her eyes at him, as they sunk back down into a sitting position, Amélie moving slightly left to allow her sister to join their huddle.

"Up where the smoke is all billered and curled," Grantaire hummed, looking out across the Parisian skyline. "Tween pavement and stars is a hopeless man's world." He nudged the blonde's shoulder, lightly as she felt Amélie curl into her. "When there's hardly no day, nor hardly no night. There's things half in shadow and half way in light."

Mathilde took bet time in following his gaze and appreciating the fading warm tones, as she saw the seamless transition from day to night happen right before her. The last few shadows of chimneys were disappearing with the remaining glow of the sunset, the alarming ambers fading into a tranquil midnight blue. The smoke of the chimneys billowed into all weird and wonderful shapes before rising higher and higher to blend with the cloud hanging above them. Only a mild ambiance could be heard; the laughter of boys inside, the towing of a cart on the street, the business of the Café below, the chattering and the footsteps of passers by.

It was probably the most serene setting one could find in such a city ridden with poverty; as in just one look the Paris she saw from that rooftop could have been anything apart its ugly reality.

Grantaire squeezed her hand, which he had yet to let go of, taking in a deep breath looking over the view.

"On the roof tops of Paris. Oh Lord, what a sight."

Mathilde copied his actions in attempt to relax, emitting a somewhat silent laugh as she did so, taking a leaf out of his book for once. 

"Chim chiminey, chim chiminey, chim chim cher-ee, when you're with Grantaire, you're in fine company." The blonde smiled, swaying slightly, addressing the children whose faces lit up at the sound of the song being continued.

"For nowhere is there are more happier crew than those that sing, chim chim cher-ee, chim cher-oo." The cynic went on, wrapping his arm around Gavroche's small frame, who gave him a toothy grin in response.

"Chim chiminey, chim chim," The two adults harmonised slowly, dragging out the notes, their gazes fixed upon the horizon. "Cher-ee chim cher-oo."

"Are you four quite done?"

All of their heads snapped left in the direction of the voice; three looking sheepish, one looking terribly smug. Combeferre leant out of the window they had all climbed through, his voice cutting through the ambiance which Mathilde noticed had died down, meaning the meeting was probably due to start.

"We're on our way, Combeferre." Grantaire replied, pulling the blonde to her feet as he said so.

The children giggled excitedly before quickly clambering along the roof to reach the man who had called for them.

  "Be careful, you two!" Grantaire called after them, at which they turned and nodded, and then seemingly slipping out of sight.

The cynic shuffled past the blonde carefully, jumping up onto the flatter part of the roof, offering her his hand to hoist herself up.

"See, I'm very responsible." He pointed out, with a smug smirk.

"Yes, I see." Mathilde chucked with another roll of her eyes, taking his hand, allowing them to progress to the window.

Just as the blonde was about to slip back into the meeting room, Grantaire gave her shoulder an impatient tap and when she turned around she was met with a much more sombre gaze than she had bargained for.

"In all sincerity." He began, "I'd never let any harm come to them — that I swear to you."

A moment of silent understanding passed between the two; she did trust him, very much. Especially to take care of the children.

"I know." She replied in a small voice, meaning laced in her tone. "Thank you."

He gave the blonde a small smile before clearing his throat and returning to his usual demeanour, and ushering her indoors.

"Come now, my darling, inside we go."

***

"ANY OTHER BUSINESS to discuss?" Enjolras asked, after concluding his final points, looking pointedly at Mathilde.

The blonde stayed silent for a minute, unsure of his look, before quickly realising.

"Oh yes, actually!"

Rising to her feet with a small chuckle, now at the centre of all the boys' attention, Mathilde clasped her hands together as she looked around at them.

"Gentleman, it pleases me to announce that we've been invited on an outing tomorrow afternoon."

An uproar of delight came in response to the news, the whole atmosphere of the room suddenly lifting after the severity of the meeting.

"Oh, how jolly indeed."

"Wherever are we going?" Bahorel called from across the room, taking a swig from his bottle.

"To the Luxembourg Garden for a picnic lunch, Enjolras and I bumped into Evangeline — one of Musichetta's friends from Madame Couture's — on the way over here and she extended the invite to include of all of us to join her and the other girls." The blonde explained, her smile falling a little, as their reactions seemed to somewhat simmer down. "You know them, you met them at the wedding?"

The room fell into almost complete silence once Mathilde had disclosed the information, she looked behind her at the children who looked almost as confused as she did.

"I thought I'd receive a more enthusiastic response, considering how well you all got on last week?" She said, honestly, looking around the room once more. "What's the matter with you all? You aren't all scared of a bunch of a girls are you?"

That comment seemed to liven them all back up again, as they broke the silence with cries of disagreement.

This reaction somewhat raised Mathilde's spirits as she let out another wry chuckle and silenced them once more.

"Then what is it?"

Another moment of silence passed, the boys looking between one another, waiting for someone to stand up and volunteer to give some kind of explanation.

"They're awfully pretty girls, Mathilde." Jehan said suddenly, a blush remanent upon his cheeks.

"Why would they invite us?" Feuilly added, with a quirk of his brow.

"Why, they could have any man they wished. Why us?" Her brother joined in, all of them seemingly defeated all of a sudden.

"Well, maybe they're just as taken with you as I am." The blonde offered an alternative view on the situation, hopefully to dilute some of the tension.

"Yes, but you're Mathilde."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Before anyone could offer any feasible answer, Jehan stood up once more.

"Look, we've no idea of how we're supposed act around girls like that." He looked around desperately for some support. "We'll just make dreadful fools of ourselves."

"I beg to differ!" Mathilde disagreed with a loud scoff. "Why! You lot are some of — if not — the most charming fellows I have ever met and I'll be damned if you think anything less of yourselves."

A couple of the boys grinned at her compliment before she gave a deep exhale and continued with her advice.

"Courting is simple, really." The blonde shrugged, folding her arms, walking more toward the centre of the room. "You just have to know the basics."

"Which are?" Lesgles asked, hopelessly.

Mathilde looked at the others who weren't in the dilemma; the children, Enjolras, Julien and Grantaire. They simply offered her small smiles but no help what so ever, the blonde gave a small huff before turning back to the rest of the room.

"Well, when you meet a girl, you don't grab for her." She stressed, taking a few paces as she explained, "You should hold off for a while, offer her your arm."

The blonde looked over at Courf, mimicking the action as she said it. She titled my head slightly, beckoning him over.

"Go on." She encouraged as he got to his feet and approached the girl before presenting her his arm.

"Then you ask her for a stroll," Mathilde went on, linking her arm with Courf's as they slowly walked in a circle around the room, "And, while you're at it, you should tell her how pretty she is!"

The boys chuckled at the statement, watching excitedly as she provided some mild entertainment to help solved their communal crises.

"And you call her my dear!" The blonde cried enthusiastically, withdrawing her grasp from Courf's arm, as she stood still, addressing the boys as one. "My darling! My sweetheart! Mon cher!"

Mathilde looked over them bashfully with a small chuckle, before letting out a small sigh and readying herself in a dancing position.

"Going courting, going courting. Oh it sets your senses in a whirl!" She sang out, beginning to dance her way around the room, taking the boys aback with her sudden outburst of song. "Going courting, going courting. Duding up to go and see your girl."

She span and twirled, chuckling as she went. Thoughts of romance warming her heart as she advised the boys on exactly how to woo their women.

"Sure, it's fun to plot or stage a coup or express a fervid point of view. But you'll find it's twice as sporting going courting!"

Perching herself on the edge of Enjolras' desk, he sat in the chair behind it, looking on with Julien, both looking awfully amused while the rest leaned in intently, listening to what the blonde had to stay. 

"Now there's lots of things you've got to know," Mathilde began, "Be sure the parlour light is low." She gestured to the ambience of the room as she stood to go and sit in the chair by Jehan, to continue her demonstration. "You sidle up and squeeze her hand," She did as she said, sidling up to and squeezing Jehan's hand, who blushed scarlet while the other boys laughed at her antics. "Let me tell you fellas that is grand."

The blonde rose to her feet once more, putting on a performance of acting nervous and she stood in the middle once more.

"You hum and haw a little while. She gives you kind of half a smile." She mimicked the actions once more as she sang them, "You cuddle up she moves away." She looked at the boys intently, hammering home her next point, "Then the strategy comes into play!

"Going courting, going courting, if you find it hard to break the ice." Mathilde sang heartily once more, beginning to dance around the room, weaving in between the boys' chairs. "Going courting, going courting, here's a little feminine advice."

She stopped in her tracks and stood by Bahorel's chair, addressing him with her next lyrics, a wry smile on her lips.

"Roll your eyes and heave a little sigh." He did as instructed, giving a faint over the top sigh, pretending to fall into Courf who had sat down again, but became more alert as Mathilde moved onto him. "Grunt and groan like you're about to die!" The centre let out a melodramatic groan which got everyone laughing, including myself and the blonde span herself back into the middle. "That is what's known as emoting going courting!"

The boys applauded her performance, the blonde could hear the cheering of the children from behind her that sounded alongside a long whistle from Grantaire. She chuckled, responding with a low bow, before moving to the side where she perched on another table next to Gavroche, not long before Jehan spoke suddenly with a query.

"How about sparking?" He asked, edging closer to the blonde.

"Parlour's darkened?" Mathilde responded, excitedly, wrapping her arms around herself melodramatically, "And you're longing for a fond embrace?"

"What about petting?" Bahorel asked suddenly coming into view, making his query known like Jehan had done.

"And sofa setting?" Courf joined in, following suit, before she knew the blonde was surrounded by the lot of the them.

"Ah, suppose she up and slaps your face?" Lesgles suggested in a panicked tone.

"Yeah!" They all chorused, impatiently, looking at Mathilde nervously.

"Just remember blessed are the meek," She sang, softly, holding her hands out to calm them, "Don't forget to turn the other cheek," she did so, to which Gavroche placed a kiss on it cheekily, causing the blonde to laugh, "Pretty soon you'll both be larking, going sparking?"

Jumping off the side quickly and running past them all back into the centre of the room, Mathilde sang loudly as she went.

"Going dancing!"

"Going dancing?!" The boys responded together, looking mortified at the prospect of asking a girl to dance.

"At a fancy ball or minuet." The blonde went on, twirling as she pulled Feuilly into her embrace and the two of them round very briefly. "Going dancing, going dancing, you'll impress her with your etiquette."

"You mean that girls are liking men that dance?" Feuilly asked her, as they went through a couple more steps, spinning the blonde out and back into him.

"Yes, it started here in Paris, France." She answered him, before spinning around once more. "It'll help with your romancing, going dancing!"

It didn't take long for all the others to soon join in with her and Feuilly's dancing, the sounds of booming laughter and hearty singing filling the room to the brim.

"Going courting, going courting. Oh, it sees your senses in a whirl!" They chorused, dancing around the room like Mathilde had done moments previously. "Going courting, going courting. Duding up to go and see your girl!"

Their new found confidence was contagious and soon the children had joined in on the merriment, Amélie being swung in the arms of Combeferre, who sang out loudly with the other gents.

"When a certain girl has caught your eye, there's no backing down you have to try." Mathilde looked on proudly at the successful toll her advice had taken. "Soon you'll find it's simply sporting, going courting!"

"Keep your plotting!" She cried at them, enthusiastically as the dancing ceased and they all bundled together in a huddle.

"And fussing!" They called back.

"And fighting!"

"And cussing!"

"And trapping!" They all cried together, as they welcomed the blonde girl into their huddle, and with determination they chorused the final lines together. "Cause we're going courting!"

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