A Character Sketch of Eponine

Paris, 1836(?)

The night is cold, each icy gust of wind promising more snow to cover the light dusting that frosts the city of Paris. People huddle with their families around fires in their warm homes, inwardly thanking for the house that holds them. One would have to be either insane or desperate to go out on a night like this.

The night is cold, stilling the streets with winter’s frozen breath. Homeless men and women crowd together, not for fellowship but because their very survival depends upon the warmth provided by closeness. The last thought they have is for going out on the cold roads.

The night is cold. Those who can sleep do so; those who can’t shiver and stamp their feet to stay warm. The quiet streets seem sad for their lack of life. Then a shadow stirs.

A slight figure glides through the darkness so silent and swift one would think it was a ghost. But closer examination is needed to provide this creature’s identity. The figure is so small and slim it could be taken for a young boy, but the face, covered by a slouching beret, reveals a young woman’s eyes and delicate features. Her hands are chapped where they are exposed to the harsh wind, and the skin on her arms are dark and browned by the sun. Her face is thin and drawn; an expression of hunger often seen amongst the desperately poor laces her appearance. The hazel eyes, which may at one time had been lively and full of laughter, are dull with the acceptance of the hand life has dealt her. The clothes are old, worn and poorly repaired where the cloth became too thin to bear, and far too light for winter. Yet she doesn’t seem to notice and continues on her way.

Except for the tracks in the snow, she leaves no trace of having traveled through. She keeps to the shadows, avoiding street lamps and open places with a measure of respect and fear. Although her path may seem aimless, she slowly makes her way along the streets with a degree of purpose and eventually stops outside a tenement house. As she looks up at a darkened window the dullness in her face brightens and a small smile stretches her lips until she almost looks pretty.

Another small figure slips out of the building and calls her name, Eponine. She turns, the smile vanishing as quickly as a weak flame in a storm. The small one hurries forward and stands on one foot, alternating the stance in an attempt to keep her broken shoes out of the snow. They speak quietly, Eponine listening half-heartedly to the younger girl as she peeks again at the darkened window. When she replies her voice is rough and deep, almost mannish in tone. The younger girl nods acquiescence to Eponine’s words and shuffles across the street. Eponine watches the younger one go; then, regardless of anyone who may be watching, she looks at the darkened window again, with the small smile lighting up her features yet again. She doesn’t have much reason to smile these days, but the thought of a friend can provide that reason.

She turns away once again; the warmth in her heart shows in her face which glows with an inner light. She looks towards where the younger girl has taken up her post across the street; satisfied, she glides off again into the shadows. Day is breaking and the creatures of the night always have a need to hide from discovery.

The night is cold, but there is one person who the chill doesn’t seem to affect quite so much. Whither she goes or stays, no one may care, but she holds hope in the knowledge that she cares for someone and maybe, someday, someone may care for her.

FINIS