The voices in the dark went on. Sometimes they were hardly more than a whisper, but then the men would grow angry or excited, and raise the volume until one of them shushed the rest. Without being able to see the men most of the voices were indistinguishable, but there was one which stood out. The voice was rough and low, and often spoke above the others. It was this voice which spoke the most, and which talked of the plans.

"We are here for a reason," the rough voice said, "and I'll tell you all in good time. Why tomorrow? Tomorrow's good as any day, that's the reason. Now, we've all worked together in one way or another before, but from tomorrow it'll be different. We've all been given business by others before, and got our pay, but this'll be different I tell you."

"It better be different. There's been too many times when an old man's given me the stare 'cause of what I've done. 's almost as if 'e's expecting less. I'm just following orders—"

"—His orders!" another voice interrupted angrily.

"Yes, none other than his own orders, that's what I tell him. An' then he gives me my pay, an' it's half of what I've been expecting. He tells me that 'the job was too messy'. Not clean enough for 'is liking."

"I don't give my business to men new to our ways. It's better to stick to working for the same people. A man never asks us once, is what I say. They always ask you back, and they pay you more the second time, too."

"Sure. When doing a job for someone no one's heard of it's tricky. You end up thinkin' you're gonna end up in prison each time."

"Right, quiet now," the rough voice ordered, "you could wake someone up."

"Not a chance. They wouldn't think anything of it, anyway. Amazing how ignorant Parisians are."

"You never know, being in these parts. Why'd we have to meet here? It wouldn't have been too hard to get right into to the barrières from here. In the outskirts of the city, no one cares. I even heard of a man who was fool enough to leave a tool on the street one time, and no one cared! In those districts, there's more cover and even if someone does see us in the dark, they wouldn't care."

"The way you're blabbering they will hear us, they will, all right. We're here 'cause it's quiet. In the barrières there'd be sure as hell someone else there. With all those wretched little gamins running about it's like a permanent troop of spies watching you."

At this point there was a pause. Azelma, after hearing the last remarks, glanced around nervously. Eponine cursed under her breath. When Azelma glared at her, startled more than anything for risking giving them both away, all she did was shrug. She shrugged, of course, only after she had made sure they had not been heard. Eponine was more concerned about the fact that they hadn't searched the barrières yet. In fact she had thought of the possibility, but decided against it. Much as she wanted to find Gavroche, she could not risk going back too close to her home, which was in exactly the sort of area her brother might be in.

The streets were still, like a forest turned to stone. Azelma's eyes were well adjusted in the darkness, but the closest street lamp was a way off. The conversation unsettled her. The reason for this was not the content, but the fact that she recognised many of the situations they spoke of. She found herself sympathising with the men in a way no fourteen year old should be able to. She even had heard a similar sort of conversation before, coming from the mouths of the men who she often saw with her father. She was not so sure that she would be able to recognise a voice, let alone a whisper, but she was more or less convinced that none of these men were known to her.

Eponine stood calmly, taking in every word thoughtfully. If she had listened to a conversation between ordinary shopkeepers, she would not have understood as much as she did now. Often had she been put on watch for her father, or played some part in the kind of business these men were speaking about. Did that make her a part of this dark underworld? She knew the answer: yes. If the conversation had been between Montparnasse, Babet, Brujon and Claquesous, who often did a job for her father, she may have even joined in. She found herself interested in the business the rough voice, the leader with no doubt, had called the others here to arrange.

"We've all done basic street robberies. No one paying you to do it, no trouble, and that's all very well. What we are going to do won't be exactly hard, if we do it right, and it's not a murder either."

A series of murmurs went through the group, of which Eponine and Azelma could only understand a bit of.

"What's he getting us into?"

"I only do things thats worth doing."

"I suppose next he'll want us to do a service to Paris, too."

"Lamont! Guillaume! Fabron! Quiet, you'll get your fun. Don't worry," the voice continued, "there'll be plenty of work for all of you. Now, what I'm about to say may sound foolish, but I've heard word that it's true. Sure, I trust them that gave me the word, but there'll be work even if what I heard's false. It'll be well worth it, d'you hear me? It won't need any tools and the like."

The sound of chuckling could be heard after the word 'tools'. The voice continued.

"There'll be easy enough pickings. Why? Because we'll be stealing from people who'll be dead within a month. They'll be dead, an' if they're not, they won't be able to do anything about it."

At this point there were more mumbles. Among them, which sent shivers down Azelma's spine, was a laugh.

Another whispery voice interrupted.

"Why are you acting so smug all of a sudden? Just tell us what you mean straight an' to the point. Your plan sounds all very well, but I'm just wonderin' where we're actually stealing from. Closest thing I can think of to what you're goin' on about is a prison."

Laughter followed which was so fierce that Azelma wondered that someone else surely should have heard them, but no person came. The laughter turned nervous and then faded, as if the men had been gagged by a burning glare. The rough voice spoke again.

"No, we're not going to be robbing a prison. Although from the sound of this place, it won't be far from a prison."

"Just a moment there. 'The sound of this place'? You mean you've never checked to see what it's really like?"

"Course I haven't. I had my share of business, just like you. I've checked around, though, and it sounds true enough. Anyway, if you'll let me finish, you'll learn where we're goin'. I'm gonna need all of you to do this. Have any f you heard of a village to the east of here called Montfermeil?"

Azelma looked at Eponine uneasily and tried to catch her eye. Her sister was too intent on listening to what the men had to say, but her brow was furrowed. The rough voice continued without waiting for an answer.

"Word got round that there's illness in that village. From what I've been told, people aren't daring to go outside, and some have died. We're goin' to go to that village, and grab all that we can. There ain't any place better to take advantage of than a diseased village filled with superstitious fools."

All men started talking at once. Some were excited, some nervous, and others confused. The voices rose but then were quieted down again, but they still continued to make plans. Many were eager comments about what they could do there, and some asked questions.

The girls' thoughts were flurries of confusion. Montfermeil? The men were going to rob Montfermeil. Azelma could not remember individual people from the small town, but she did remember vague faces, voices… She had spent most of the time in the inn or with Eponine, but the townsfolk had been friendly. They had stayed more or less away from her parents, but when they had spoken a word or two to her they had been friendly.

Eponine was all the more confused. True, she was worried about the town where she had grown up, but this was a new reason to stay away from it. She had finally convinced herself to go to Montfermeil with Azelma and Gavroche, and now another worry had appeared. Apart from a spark of interest for the matter, she hardly wished to go to a place targeted by thieves.

The sound of footsteps distracted them both. They looked at the corner where the men were. Moments ticked by, and the footsteps continued. The footsteps, in the silence, seemed to grow louder, and echo around the whole street.

The figures appeared from around the corner.