2. Chapter 2 (1/2)

dear reader: now, you know the beginning of the tale that we have to tell. emmanuelle, the illegitimate child of javert and henriette nee du bois, was left orphaned by her mother. her stepfather was a cruel man who would beat her in his drunkenness, and that left a mental scar on the girl's memory. thus we have a poor, half-orphaned girl who is only just finding out who her real father is. javert, as you may well know, was a stereotypical law enforcer-that is, he had no emotions or feelings. only his daughter, a reminder of henriette, could ever make his carefully-schooled control crack.

sincerely,

henriette grantaire-pontmercy, jean grantaire, etienne grantaire

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six years later….july 7, 1827….paris, france. emmanuelle is now 14-years-old.

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emmanuelle pressed five francs into the beggar's dirty, cupped hands. "here you go, monsieur," she smiled, "god bless you!"

"and you too, mademoiselle!" the beggar said thankfully.

javert looked on in disbelief as his daughter generously gave away her money. it was an unknown, foreign concept to him. why, he wondered whenever he saw his daughter doing that, did the criminals and the poor beggars deserve money? what had they done to deserve it? he always shivered at what the people would do if they found out that she was his daughter. no, javert indeed was not blind to what people thought of him. he knew he was rough, but, he reasoned, it was for the good of upholding the law.

"papa, are you coming?" emmanuelle asked, turning to face her father. javert could not help but notice the way that his dear daughter had grown up. she had been a thin, gangly, and downright tiny child. now, at fourteen years of age, she was a young lady, far from what she had been when she had first come to him. now, her

own hair was wavy, her grey eyes were sparkling with mirth and happiness, and her body was shapely. she had only started wearing a corset for two years. even at her young age, emmanuelle was starting to attract the wandering eyes of many young men and students from the local university. in fact, javert had been asked for emmanuelle's hand in marriage three times since her fourteenth birthday. in typical javert fashion, he had turned them all down. javert was not ready-nor was he sure that he would ever be-ready to let emmanuelle

anch off from him and grow up. honestly, he didn't feel like she was ready.

sure, she could cook, clean, sew, knit, crochet, play the piano, play the violin, play the harp, play the harpsichord, and could read, but did that make her ready for marriage? in the eyes of society-which was ever changing-yes, this girl was completely ready to be married, have children, and leave her father for her own household. the problem was that javert, who had always thought himself out of society due to his gypsy heritage, was not ready. call it attachment, obsession….whatever you may wish, actually, but he was most certainly not ready to let her grow up.

javert walked crisply after his trotting daughter, who held a heavy bundle of new books that she had just bought. among them was a title that she had been longing to read, a copy of justinian's code. emmanuelle was just as interested in the law as he was, and he was proud of her for that. it was a common practice of theirs to stop at the bookkeeper's shop on the way home from mass at notre-dame cathedral.

they passed a band of laughing young men who looked to be the same age as emmanuelle. one was holding a glass bottle that he occasionally raised to his lips. javert had a sneaking suspicion that he was drunk.

there was a wooden board lying in the street, which, unfortunately, his daughter failed to notice. emmanuelle's foot struck the corner of the board, and she flailed as she tripped. a very-near-to-a-rain-shower of books flew from her arms. emmanuelle fell on her stomach, mud from the previous night's rain shower splashing up onto her face and dress.

one of the students, the one with the bottle in his hand, ran over and took her hand, helping her up from the ground.

"are you okay, mademoiselle?" he asked, gathering her books.

emmanuelle shook her head, and a few stray wisps of hair from her bun bounced with ever shake of her face. "yes, monsieur. i believe i'll be fine."

the boy answered, "oh, mademoiselle, your face and dress!" and offered her his grey tweed coat from england. he also produced a handkerchief and handed it to her. emmanuelle gratefully took the white linen scrap and wiped the mud off of her face to the best of her ability.

"merci, monsieur. i owe you much," she thanked gratefully.

"non, mademoiselle," he replied, shaking it off with a wave of his hand, "it was only a kind deed to do."

"there must be something i can do in return," emmanuelle insisted as he handed her back her copy of the justinian code. "just please, tell me your name so that i can do something for you."

"my name is grantaire," the boy replied, "and, mademoiselle, there is no need."

noting the cover of the justinian code, he replied, "you're interested in law? i'm surprised." he turned to one of his friends, who stood on the sidelines of the sidewalk. "enjolras! look at this!"