"Marius..." she whimpered. Each time his lips moved against hers, she felt a jolt in her veins. She realized then that she was sitting on his lap, with her legs wrapped around his torso and her arms around his neck. She felt his large hands on her back, moving up and down, and her eyes rolled back a little in ecstasy.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Mon cherie,"he murmured in her ear. She turned her head to look at him, and then took in the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She ran her hands across his chest, and noticed that she was just in her chemise and stockings. Instead of being embarrassed, like she thought she would be, she just felt love, and she leaned in to kiss him again.

He helped her lay back onto the springy grass, of their garden, and her heart picked up speed. Warmth spread through her whole being.

"Cosette," he whispered. "Open your eyes."

She did, smiling.

At first she was confused. She was not in the Garden of the rue Plumet, and the warmth was gone. It was dark. There were no stars.

And there was no Marius.

But then it all came flooding back, and she felt like something cold and cruel had seized her throat. Marius is dying, she heard in her head. He won't be talking to you again. Then she chastised herself. How could you have a dream like that? And you enjoyed it, didn't you, Cosette? She blushed, even though no one was there to see it.

Yes, her father had told her that Marius might live. And she would pray every night and do everything she could to help him. But she was not stupid. And, upon hearing the news, Cosette felt her hope drain out of her. First it was her happiness, upon hearing she would go to England. But she had still had hope. Not anymore.

Her father had presented her with a note written by Marius' grandfather telling her what had happened. Apparently Marius had talked to his grandfather right before going to the barricades, and told him about her. Then he went to try and get himself killed. He had been shot eight times. He was unconscious. He was feverish and bleeding from deep wounds. The doctor was doubtful he would ever wake up.

How could he do this?

Cosette's eyes were adjusting to the room around her, and she just felt bitter. Anger towards the little knickknacks that decorated her bureau, hostility towards the flowers on the bedside table. they were happy and cheerful things. There was no reason to be happy and cheerful. She scowled.

She felt anger towards her father, for making her go to England. Marius wouldn't have done this if they weren't to be separated. And she felt anger towards Marius for trying to harm himself.

There's nothing you can do, she told herself. They wouldn't let you see him.

Usually Cosette was fair and kind. Usually, when she was angry or upset, she thought rationally and kept it inside her. She didn't blame. But this was different.

And all she felt was bitterness.