(no subject)

[lark_in_flight]

Marius has ducked into the hall to call for hot drinks. So it's Cosette and her father, alone at last in his Milliways room.

Part of her wants to weep once more for joy. Part of her wants to shout at him. She turns away abruptly to grab a quilt from his bed.

"Here," she says, "put this quilt over your lap, Father. It's winter here. You must take care of yourself! I tell you, we will be here often. You will grow quite sick of us! And then in Paris you will come to live with us. I have a room all ready. I won't hear a word against it. You will be with us, we will all be together, you will be a father to your little Cosette again, and we will all be very happy."

As she chatters she tucks the quilt around him, and pulls a footstool near. If he wants, he can put his feet onto it. Otherwise, she'll settle onto it, to sit at his feet like a confiding child.

Comments

[road_to_calvary]

He does not put his feet on it. In truth, he does not need the quilt either; Milliways is adequately heated even for a man who has been ill. But he would not object to her fussing for the world, it fills his heart with such joy.

'I would never grow sick of you Cosette, nor Marius either.'

He takes her hand, because he can. And what a marvellous thing that is.

'I will be a father to you always, if it is what you want. I have no right to it but you are very kind, you and your husband allow it, and I will not try to leave again.'

If anything is clear - to him, to all - it is that he cannot survive being without her.