Armand St Just was lying on his bed, trying to read his texts for a test he had next week. He growled in disgust. It was the second week of school, and already they were hacing a test. And a big one too. Professer de Ghent had informed them that it would be 1/4 of their grade that quarter.
However, Marguerite had decided to throw some party or something, and the guests had just started arriving. Unable to study, even with the door locked, Armand slammed the book closed and started to change. His hair had grown over the summer, long enough for him to pull it back in a ponytail. Pulling on his blue jacket, Armand unlocked his door and went in search of his sister-- and hopefully, food.
"Oh Armand, I'm glad you are here." Marguerite said as she watched her brother enter the main room. "I need you to help me. I told Claudette I would bring her some food since she's not feeling well, and I want to do that now, but I need you to stay here as everyone arrives. Now, I need you just to let everyone in, if they're wearing coats take them and hang them up, and then make appoligies for me. tell anyone that arrives that I am sorry I wa not here to greet them, I am checking in on an ill friend, and will return shortly. Do you think you can handle that little brother?"
Oh brother. He had to deal with all her friends, now, too. When he could be studying, or over at Julien's. Julien lived near the Place de la Grève, and it was much more interesting than monotonous chatting with Marguerite's friends.
Armand nodded. "I think I can manage. Who's coming, and where can I get something to eat real quick? I've been studying for that exam all afternoon."
"I'm not exactly sure on who plans on coming today Armand." Marguerite said as she began to pull on her coat. "But just be nice and let them in. Once I get back I'll be putting some food out and then you can take some of it back to your room to eat, I promise. But try to be pleasant, you might enjoy some of the conversation."
"But I'm starving!" He protested. "pleeeeeeease, Marguerite?"
Marguerite sighed as she gathered the pot with the soup for her friend. "Alright, take a little bite of something of the plates I prepared now as people arrive, but don't leave anyone standing at the door. When I return I will fix you a proper plate. Is there anything else?"
He grabbed a peice of bread eagerly and gulped down a chunk. He thought a
moment, pondering the question.
"Non, merci. There is nothing. Just starved, is all." That soup she had smelled wonderful... He opened the door for her. "Bon voyage, Margot!" He said, airily.
Marguerite glanced once more at him as she stepped out the door. "I won't be long and behave Armand."
"I will, I will..." He closed the door behind him, laughing a little. 'Behave, Armand'. "Nobody trusts me, do they?" He muttered, helping himself to another piece of bread.
For the next ten or twenty minutes, he let in about five people. Most of them chatted amongst themselves. When he heard another knock at the door, Armand once again dragged himself over to the door.
"Bon soir, m'sieur," He said, seeing the man outside. "Come... in..." Armand did a double take. "Oh no..."
It took every ounce of Armand's self-control not to allow himself to grin outright -- instead his face lit up as he recognized the boy, whom he had rather expected to see. Removing his hat, he smiled widely as he stepped through the doorway. "Why, Citoyen St. Just! Will you be joining us tonight, then?"
Armand grudgingly held out his hand for the hat and coat. "Malheureusement, M. Ch-- citoyen," He corrected himself. This was the *last* way he wanted to spend his evening. "Yes, unfortunately. Margot is out, at the moment. I expect her any moment." 'Please, please, please let it be any moment... the less I have to talk to him, the better.'
However, the question formed on his lips that he had been wondering since the moment he set foot in the house: "How do *you* know my sister, citoyen?" He felt sick. Armand hoped that they hadn't been friends for years or anything. How could he have missed *that*?
Armand nodded, considerably more cheerful than when he had first climbed the stairs. "Oh, no trouble, no trouble -- does she need any help? I'll be more than happy to assist with anything, here or there. You needn't take the hat, young man, I can hang it." He did so, before answering the boy's other question. "I've known your sister for a few months ... we met at the Bastille, she hasn't told you? I've brought something for her, if you could tell me where to set them." Armand held a siple pair of roses, his usual visiting gift.
"N-noo..." Armand said, catching sight of the roses. Roses? WHY? "Euh..."
What the hell did he know about flowers? "The Bastille? That was months
ago!" How glib. "Why didn't she--?" He was furious. How could Marguerite not
tell him?
Grudgingly, he nodded to Chauvelin. "I'll get a vase, shall I?"
Since the Bastille.... God, how could she not tell him she'd met Chauvelin? 'Remember what you promised Marguerite: polite,' He told himself. It was going to be very hard to keep that promise.
Armand wondered -- with an almost wicked amount of amusement -- if the boy knew precisely *how* involved the two of them were. He seemed disconcerted enough to know that they had met at all ... but if Marguerite hadn't seen fit to explain things to him point by point, neither would he. As a favor, he ignored St. Just's sputterings, and turned his attention as well to the roses.
"Yes, a vase -- that would be very kind of you. Are you sure you don't need any more help?"
Did he know? He sensed something stronger than friendship between them. Did he have a cousin he didn't know about? Armand cringed at the thought, and he set a vase with some water on the table.
"I figured I could handle a vase, citoyen," He said, gritting his teeth.
"Of course, of course. I didn't mean to insinuate." Armand's consideration of how Marguerite might react if he *deliberately* irritated her younger brother kept him from using his full talent on the child, at least; however, he didn't want to leave him alone quite just yet. "When did you say your sister would be back? Ah, and did you enjoy the Rousseau at all?"
"Momentarily, I think," Armand said, wishing he would leave him alone. He
remembered the booklet Chauvelin had given him months before. Grudgingly, he
admitted Jean-Jacques Rousseau that had been rather interesting. The ideas of
enlightenment expressed in Rousseau's work had made him reconsider the
righteousness of the government. And since Chauvelin had given him the
booklet, the rebels had caused a full-blown revolution. They had done it all.
When they had been locked out of the assembly hall during the meeting of the
Estates-General, the third Estate had broken into an old tennis court and
rewritten the constitution to their liking.
While contempt was outwardly expressed towards the royal family, all of
France adored the little Dauphin, Louis Capet.
The king had reluctantly recognized the new constitution as the current
government, which had been turned into a limited monarchy; this meant that
the king had to get approval from the legislature before making an executive
decision. Naturally, old Lock-adoring Louis wasn't too happy with *that*.
Idiot. His fate was sealed, even before the revolution started.
"Wonderful," came Armand's response to both of the boy's answers. "I
certainly hope it didn't cause you any trouble -- is that the vase
you're using?" He attempted to make a face in order to cover his
smirk, and was mildly successful. "Come, now. You *said* you didn't
need any help."
"Well it appears that you specialize in the art of vase choosing. Perhaps you
could enlighten me, citoyen, and choose an appropriate one for my sister."
His remark was bordering on impolite, and he didn't bother to mask the sneer
that spread across his face.
Sure, they could be civil when discussing enlightenment. But that was all
they had in common... Er, now it seemed they had Marguerite in common, as
well.
"Oh, come now. I trust your judgment, I suppose." Armand glanced
over the arrangement one more time, only to make sure, moved one of
the flowers a minute fraction of an inch, and gave a satisfied
nod. "There, you see? Perfect. Thank you very much. If you
needn't any more help, I'll be happy to leave you be, young man, but
don't hesitate to ask?"
Armand crossed his arms, pretending to study the blossoms carefully. His
cheek twitched when Chauvelin moved one, but he said nothing.
"Pas de quoi," He muttered to the words of thanks. "I didn't *ask* for your
help, citoyen, you insisted on giving it." He glared at Chauvelin. "Are you
trying to make me mad on purpose?" Down, boy, that's not exactly polite!
He tried very hard, really, to suppress a sort of snicker at the
boy's last comment, and managed to transform it into a weak cough
before the enmity already present between them had yet another chance
to grow. "Why! Such an accusation." Armand could not, however,
keep from grinning fairly obviously. "I only attempt *that* when
similarly provoked."
"And what have I done for you to do so?" Hell, where was Marguerite? The
minute she arrived, he was going to ditch the bastard and lock himself in his
room. St. Just, you are such a child.
"Well, your belligerence is really quite unnecessary, friend --"
Armand cut off and whirled around as he heard the door open and shut
without any request, assuming immediately that it was indeed the
hostess.
Marguerite virtually ran back to her flat after visiting Claudette, not
wishing to leave her guests alone for long. once home she was greeted by
many of the people already assembled and scanned the room for Armand.
"I am not belligerent, you stuck up son of a--" He heard the door close
behind him. Armand sighed with relief and turned from the older man.
"Margot, I'm so glad your home. I believe M. Chauvelin has been anticipating
your arrival for a while now. Now if you'll excuse me, *m'sieur* Chauvelin.
It's been a pleasure, as *always*." Not facetious. His words reeked with
sarcasm. Armand started to head for his room.
Armand watched the child walk away, with no more than a nod to his
back. If his sister had something to say to him, that was truly none
of his business -- but at this point, he cared very little whether
the boy decided to lock himself in his room for the evening. The
title irked him slightly, but he let it slide off with a tight smile
and a more cheerful "Goodnight!"
Marguerite gave her brother a bit of a glare for his tone of voice before
giving a soft, welcoming smile to Chauvelin, "Why Armand, I see you've
meet monsieur Chauvelin, he is a close friend of mine." she explained,
although not entirely truthfully. After all, she and Chauvelin were not
exactly, friends.
As much as he would have enjoyed showing the boy precisely *how*
close they were -- he longed constantly to be near to her in any
case, was maddened by the very thought of her, and all of that --
Armand merely smirked, almost invisibly. "Yes, we've met. A
pleasure, as your brother was saying."
That pissed the hell out of him. That cheerfulness, it was so.... agitating.
He turned on his heel and glared viscously at the man.
"Je deteste toi, monsieur. You needn't pretend anymore. Mask your contempt
if you like, but I'm not afraid to show mine." He turned to his sister.
"Bonne nuit, Marguerite. I have work to complete."
Marguerite turned to Chauvelin for a moment, "I'll just be a
minute," before excusing herself and taking her brother aside. "I thought
I told you to behave Armand. What could have happened in the short time I
was gone that you are behaving so?"
He was cold even to his sister. "Do you remember when I sent you that note, mentioning that the Marquis de Chauvelin had recruited me to recreate some paperwork I accidentally ruined?" Armand shot a dagger-like glare at Chauvelin, whose nonchalant attitude was infuriating him. "Well *that* is the Marquis de Chauvelin, and the reason why I am leaving now. I can't believe you didn't tell me you knew him, Marguerite! How could you?!?!"
He stared, unsure of what to do. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to
throw Chauvelin and those damn roses out the window.
Marguerite just glared at him. "Well, I did not know him until after that
incident, and you would do better to behave yourself in the presence of
company. I didn't raise you to be rude, nor did Mama or Papa. Not if
you've been anything less than civil and polite, even in the slightest
little bit, I want you to go over there and apologize to him."
Armand stared. "Apologize?" He exclaimed, disbelieving. "I would rather slit my own throat than apologize to that son of a--" He cut off seeing the look on her face. "I will apologize to *you* though, for breaking my promise. *He* doesn't deserve it.
"Excuse me, please."
Marguerite was horrified by the language Armand used, or almost
used. "Armand, regardless of what you think, he is a friend of mine and a
guest in our home. He deserves to be treated with respect and I want you
to apologize to him, right now."
"And regardless of what *you* think, Marguerite, I am not going to do it," He
snapped. His language went to hell whenever he was mad. Armand took a deep
breath. "Guest or no guest, he's no friend of mine, and personally, I feel
that our feelings for each other are mutual. I really don't think he gives a
damn if I apologize or not. It would satisfy that sadistic attitude of his to
see me humiliated, that much I know."
"I will have no more of this Armand, not in this flat. Right now I want
you to say you are sorry of anything crude you might have said and then
excuse yourself to your room. I hope you snacked enough while I was gone
because I won't be putting him off anymore to make something for you if
you don't behave yourself." Marguerite said.
"As if I'd expect you to go out of your way for me," He said. "I've had quite
enough, thank you." He walked over to Chauvelin. "*Monsieur* de Chauvelin, my
sister seems to think that she can talk me into giving apologies I do not
feel necessary. Therefore, accept her apology for me, and let us depart with
the mutual feeling of contempt for one another." He did not offer his hand
--*touch that*? Have you gone mad?-- but turned coolly from him.
"Good night, Marguerite." He went to his room, but did not lock the door.
Every once in a while, he peeked out.
Armand twitched into a tight smile a the boy's
attempt to irritate him with inappropriate formalities
-- he was too young to understand, of course. And he
was a brat. Both forgivable. To the younger St.
Just, as he was walking away, he replied dryly: "My
apologies as well, of course. No harm intended, and
good evening." He did not particularly care that the
child wasn't listening, except that perhaps Marguerite
might be upset by it.
Marguerite shot Armand an angry look as he passed her on his way to his
room. after taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she stepped over
to Chauvelin to make the apologies her brother spoke of. She wiped the
small threatening tears from her eyes and softly let her hand brush against
his. "I am sorry if Armand was rude to you. I try to teach and get him
to behave, but something I just can not get through to him. I just don't
know what to do sometimes."
He leaned against the wall and cringed. *She* touched him. Can't get through to him? There was a reason for that. It was as if they weren't both speaking French! "*Try* indeed," He muttered. "Some teacher."
Armand frowned, concerned. He hadn't thought it was
so important; no more than a child acting in
accordance with his mood, a rather fiery one, but
still only emotion ... he took her hand, as she seemed
to wish to be discreet, and brought his face nearer to
hers. "It's perfectly understandable. He's a boy,
there's nothing you can do -- and it's not a problem
in the first place." Armand grinned, a least *hoping*
to cheer her up somewhat. "I especially can't
criticize a burning temper, can I."
Marguerite smiled a little bit as he tried to calm her. She squeezed his
hand, "I guess neither of us could really criticize him. But we will
speak no more of him. I've been away far to long and it's time I meet my
guests."
Armand nodded, and quickly kissed her on the forehead. "Very well.
They'll get restless, yes -- I don't mean to delay you. Shall we?"
St Just gagged. A friendly kiss, that was all. but vile all the same. He watched them through a half-inch space between the door and the doorframe. Oh the kid knew he was being a total brat. He had no right to act that way to Marguerite's friends. But if he was bad, that *Chauvelin* was worse. Much worse.
Latest news? As in, the revolution? That could be interesting. But where could he hide? His room was not close enough to catch all they said.
He spied the table with the hors d'oeuvres on it. Perfect. Making sure their backs were turned, Armand slipped out his door and made a silent, mad dash to slide under the long, white tablecloth. Success! He made it. And he waited.
Marguerite nodded and took his arm, allowing him to escort her into the
parlor were many other people were already chatting away. "So tell us
Armand, what is the latest news to brush your ears."
Armand, after greeting one or two familiar faces with
a sort of half-interest, answered in tones loud enough
for the rest to hear, as well: "Nothing so far as
events, of course, else you'd have heard it also; only
waiting, working. I dare say this is a beginning more
than an end, would that I could tell you more ..." He
gave one of his ironic, half smiles to no one in
particular, and almost imperceptibly drew closer to
the woman at his side. "Summer isn't over yet, after
all."
Marguerite and many of the others listened with interest as Armand
spoke. "And what of the royal family," she asked, "I understand many feel
they should return to Paris, yet they remain in Versailles. Has the court
responded to this at all?"
"It is unsurprising, I'm certain, that they have not -- they fear,
of course. Their level of favor is rather easy to see, out on the
streets, even ... I, for one, doubt that it will matter quite where
they stay, for the meantime. As I said, now we simply wait."
"Well I for one think it's an awful thing. The capitol is Paris, and this
is where the government should be, not Versailles. The King is too far
removed from the real problems that plague out country. He hides in that
palace with the Austrian, he's sheltered from the world around
him.: Marguerite said.
Armand nodded in agreement. "A fundamental problem, yes. A ruler
immune to his people's problems is no ruler at all ... Where they are
at the moment, though, and where they remain until this heat gives
way, I find unimportant. Eventually ... eventually, they will come.
Perhaps soon, perhaps in a few months. But if things progress as I
see them now, their situation will be appropriately unpleasant when
they do return."
Marguerite nodded, "But I think they would have to realize that. Common
sense would say that that they would avoid a city worked up, motivated by
poverty and hunger." Marguerite argued.
"Yes -- possibly they do realize, and possibly they are *still*
entirely too sheltered to do so. I don't know enough to speak for
them, unfortunately ... But they fear to return, which is reasonable,
as you've said. I don't know if they understand that delay will only
make matters worse, but in any case, I believe any hope they might
have is probably over-optimistic, at this point."
"Do you then feel that there will be no amicable solution to this
Armand?" Marguerite asked.
Armand glanced about at the others in the room, trying to gain at
least some feeling of what they themselves thought of the situation,
before continuing in a tone that could not be described as pleased.
"I see none. The king has displayed his completely inadequate sense
of compromise, and the problems at hand are far too large to be solved
by any beurocratic wordplay -- maintaining the current state of
affairs is entirely unacceptable, and there will be no change if he's
left to his own methods."
He disliked upheaval as much as any other sensible person. Anyone
who knew him would likely have more than one story about some sort of
irritation caused by his ever-present need for order ... but chaos
would be a small price to pay, wouldn't it?
"And if the king, and assumingly his counselors, are so inadequately
prepared for such an undertaking, no doubt it is only a matter of time
before the people once again take action into their own
hands." Marguerite said.
"It has been inevitable for quite some time, I
think." Armand himself was slightly irritated at the
slow pace of the entire 'action', but patience was
something he was able to at least pretend when it was
necessary. Evenings such as these took away from the
strain of waiting, however, and as he lost himself in
discussion it seemed very much as though the troubles
outside were reduced to the level of intellectual
challenge.
Reluctant, as he always was, to give up such a
careless feeling and good company, Armand waited until
the rest of the crowd had departed for their own homes
to help Marguerite straighten up somewhat. He much
preferred the time alone to their larger and more
public conversations, but spare hours were rare for
the both of them. He would have to take that promised
evening off sometime soon, he thought ...
Marguerite sat down and let her feet rest as most of the guests had
left. Only Chauvelin and few other close friends remained now. the topic
of government had begun to dull and the few remaining had gone onto other
things; arts, literature and the like. Marguerite took up her own glass
of wine, listening to the last bits of remaining conversation, and waiting
for almost all of those remaining to leave.
Armand was not particularly excited about art. Some of it was nice enough to hang in one's country home, if one were to have one, and some of it was revolting. Not something he cared to discuss, really. Fiction was the same way, aside from the fact that it conveniently stacked in neat shelves, rather than taking up portions of walls that could have been otherwise utilized. A discussion on such subjects would have made him quite ready to retreat home in any kind of imaginable weather.
So, vaguely aware of the other remaining visitors, Armand took a seat on the couch as well, distant enough to be proper, and raised his own glass to Marguerite's before draining it completely. "A wonderful evening, as always," he began, smiling, "But for the stragglers."
Marguerite smiled and leaned a bit closer to whisper to him, "Only a few more minutes. The wine is running out."
And Marguerite was right. After a few more minutes her remaining guests finished their drinks, and their conversations, and bid their hostess goodbye. Marguerite excused herself form Armand and saw her guests out before quietly taking her seat next to Armand again.
Armand laughed quietly, setting his emptied drink on the end table and watched, amused, as Marguerite's predictions became reality. He bid them farewell from his seat, using an imaginary fatigue as an excuse for not walking them to the door.
When she returned, Armand let his head rest on the back of the couch -- relaxed, but not as tired as he had pretended. Lightly, and with a consoling smile, he offered: "I really am sorry about your brother, my dear. I'll certainly try not to bother him in the future."
Marguerite sighed and moved to rest her head on his shoulder. "It's alright. He should know better then behave in such a way. He's usually very good, but once you're on his bad side, it's very hard for him to put the past aside."
"Well. One can hope, in any case." Armand placed his own hand on top of hers, not once losing his smile, however slight. "The week has been exciting enough as it is, I suppose." He gripped her hand, lightly. "We're making some progress towards sanity, though -- I've managed not to fall asleep on your couch."
Marguerite smiled to herself, "My brother would be pleased about that. Although he wouldn't be pleased if he knew where I had been resting."
Again tightening his grip on her hand for a moment, Armand nearly grinned. "If my humble opinion can ever match his, I'll tell you that I'm *quite* happy with it."
Marguerite turned her head up and looked into his eyes, "I'm happy with it too." she whispered as she shut her eyes and breathed out a gentle sigh.
Armand released her hand, allowing his fingers instead to run gently down her hair as he dealt a kiss to her temple. "I'm glad," he said, simply, smiling at her yet again, and thinking -- as he almost always did, at least in their quieter moments -- about past devotion, previous love. The loneliness that had become more acute, tenfold, when he had first met Marguerite was now diminished almost completely, transformed into a sort of quiet remembrance in the back of his mind. He really *was* quite glad, strange to say after what seemed like so many years, to sit quietly and discuss nothing.
Marguerite turned her head up and gently ran her own fingers over his temple and through his hair, mimicking his own actions. She let lips lightly brush his chin while taking a few deep breaths. Marguerite had grown used to his affection, his movements, some of which frightened her at first. But now she earned for the affection he would give her, even so much so that she allowed him to stay at her flat, knowing Armand was home.
Armand, once and relatively briefly married, had forgotten precisely what was appropriate in the time period known loosely in his own mind as 'courting'. His actions throughout his time with Marguerite, therefore, were perhaps unusual and he had certainly noticed the discomfort they had occasionally produced ... he felt now, however, that such barriers were rather long gone.
Wrapping both arms about her shoulders, Armand closed his eyes and sighed, less tired than content. "We shall have to find an *entire* evening together at some point," he suggested, noting the hour.
"We shall, and hopefully soon." Marguerite whispered, letting her lips turn towards him so her gentle breath would brush his skin. "I miss you when you stay away for so long."
Armand smiled. "I don't mean to, of course. Hopefully things will calm down, sooner rather than later ..." He leaned his face as close to hers as he could manage, gazing, rather lazy, into her face. "And when we're both not so *tired*, I should hope."
"Oh, you don't like having me rest in your arms." Marguerite whispered. She moved a bit and let her body relax into his a bit more. "No doubt once things calm down for you at work they'll pick up for me at the theatre."
Armand grinned. "More than anything, surely. And I know they will ... well. I'm sure we'll find something." He kissed her more tentatively than was his habit, and broke away to comment: "The holidays, one can hope."
Marguerite put on a pouty look once he broke away, "The holidays are three months away yet, and the theatre gets busier, holiday revivals, extra performances." she said with a sigh. "Why don't you come watch me," she asked almost sourly.
"Sometime in between, then -- there are any number of places we could spend time at, if we could only find it ..." Armand drew her closer to him within his embrace, touching his lips to the top of her head. "And I *will*," he promised. "You know as well as I do how busy schedules can be ..."
"I do," Marguerite said, adding yet another sigh. "Well, let us not dwell on that now. We have a bit of time, I would doubt that my brother is sleep, so shall we just enjoy each other's company here."
"Of course, my dear." Again he touched his lips to hers, aware to a certain extent that at any moment a small boy could jump out into the parlor and find them there; but, as his more paternal sensitivities were not incredibly concerned with young *men*, he allowed himself to forget, for the most part.
Marguerite let her hand cover his cheek as he kissed her. She kept caressing his neck and face as he held her, not wanting him to stop. She pulled her arms around his neck, knowing full well that entertaining a man alone in her home was considered in appropriate, what would her little brother say if he caught her like this.
Armand slowly pulled away, enough to hold her face between his own two hands, smiling as softly as he had ever managed into her face. "You *are* beautiful, aren't you," he almost murmured, recalling to himself that he would soon have to leave, even though he had looked forward to this very type of moment for nearly a week ...
Marguerite smiled and blushed as he spoke to her. "And lucky," she whispered. She heard her clock chime softly, and, without taking her eyes from his. She gently moved her hands to cover his ears. It was late, and she knew he would have to leave soon, but she didn't want him to yet.
"Not as lucky as I, I'm afraid --" Armand laughed, suddenly and quietly, and ignored the chimes as per her unspoken instructions. "Why, I don't hear anything," he grinned, moving to lean his head against her shoulder.
Marguerite smiled as he moved to lean against her. She shift her weight
and moved her arms to wrap around him once again. She placed a few soft
kisses on his cheek and neck. So naive she still was when it came to
being in the company of a man, but he made things so simple for her, she
let herself relax in his arms.
Armand sighed. "We'll find sometime when we can stay like this as long as we want ... no clocks," he added, smiling downward as she kissed at his face. "We'll take a week, and worked be damned." He lifted his face to hers again, quite happy to be near to her at all.
Marguerite smiled and kissed him again, "That sounds wonderful, but I
couldn't take a week and go away, and it's not work I am worried
about." Marguerite gave him a few more soft kisses, "but we will find
time."
"Oh, very well ..." Armand paused to enjoy her attentions, allowing himself to be held, and rather enjoying it, as he sometimes did. "If you say so, dearest. I'll be sure to clear my schedule at some point ... soon."
"I know you will. After all, you wouldn't want to risk someone else
sweeping me away do you?" Marguerite said as she turned her head to hide
a bit of a yawn.
"What! Something I should be worried about, dear?" As he pulled himself to sit up somewhat straighter, Armand's mock-wounded expression gazed down at Marguerite; he brushed some of her hair from her forehead, noting that she herself seemed rather tired. "Goodness knows I'd have to take off a *month*, if that were the case ..."
Marguerite smiled and turned her head to kiss his hand gently as he
brushed her hair. "As long as you keep promising, I'll keep hoping, and
keeping all others at bay."
"Well, then. And after I've satisfied your hopes?" Armand, grinning, took back his hand and rested it atop one of hers. "Perhaps I'll stop by one evening just to meet these 'others' you speak of."
Despite what anyone may think, he had not fallen asleep, in his bed or under the table as he still was. It was a good thing he couldn't see anything those two were doing. The poor kid would have done himself a serious injury. Imagination was making those periods of silence between their words more than what they really were, right? Marguerite was a lady. She wouldn't entertain a man --and especially not *that* one-- in her apartment.... alone? Would she?
Little St Just tried to assure himself of that. He couldn't clearly hear what they were saying, but their murmurs made him nervous. What were they *doing*, anyway?????
"You'll do no such thing." Marguerite replied, "I enjoy being spoiled by
admirers and I won't have you scaring them off. You'll just have to wait
until I push them all away and come back to you."
Armand sighed. "And there I'll be with my pair of
roses, and you'll soon learn to find a more affluent
admirer more attractive." He smiled, once again
kissed her temple, and leaned his forehead against
hers. "But the extra wait before I can pay you my
compliments is acceptable, I suppose. So long as I
have decent seats ..."
Marguerite closed her eyes and smiled, "You'll have the best seat, I can
assure you. And don't you worry," she said as she brought one finger up
and let it touch his face until it rested gently on his lips, "meeting
with them only makes me appreciate you more."
"Well, if I've nothing to worry about in your
admirers," Armand replied, quietly and softly, smiling
and speaking around her hand, "Then I can concentrate
more fully on the show, I suppose. Well. One of the
stars, at any rate. Name an evening, and I'll be
there."
Armand's eyes widened. That sentence was painfully clear. Were they interested in something more than a friendship? Poor Armand-- he's so naïve. He peeped from under the long tablecloth. Where were they? Sitting on the couch.... oh God. He couldn't see them from there. "Get out of here, Chauvelin...." He muttered under his breath.
"Tomorrow ... yes. Tomorrow evening." He smiled. "I'll run off early; we can go somewhere afterwards, if you'd like." Armand took up her hand and kissed her fingers, smiling slyly. "If you're not too busy with the adoring crowd."
"I'll make do with them quickly so I might run off with you." Marguerite
said as she kissed him gently. "And then perhaps I'll grant you the
pleasure of taking me to dinner."
"I shall await your pleasure, of course," Armand
agreed, sighing quite happily at her affection and the
thought of an evening -- a *longer* evening -- alone.
"But if you don't see me after the performance, I've
already run outside to wait."
"Oh, don't do that, come back to my room. I can leave a note with the
house manager and he'll bring you right back." Marguerite said with
begging eyes, "please say you'll come back."
Armand laughed, half out of appreciation and half for
her expression. "Would I refuse an offer to stay out
of the cold?" he grinned, laying a hand at the side of
her shoulder. "With you, for that matter? If you can
arrange it, I would be delighted."
"And I would be delighted for you to join me. Now, since you're planning
on taking me out tomorrow night, I wonder if I should let you go
soon." Marguerite said as she lowered her eyes, and brought her face
close to his again, gently letting her breath caress his skin, " After
all, I wouldn't want you worn and tired, who knows what we may want to do
tomorrow night, how much energy you'll need."
Armand had very little trouble admitting to himself that the mere thought of Marguerite practically drove him wild; he had also gathered that she was probably aware of it as well, in some way. His smirk grew, if only a little, and he let his hand brush down her arm to rest at her fingertips.
"You certainly know how to get rid of me, don't you." Armand kissed her, softly, one more time, and moved to lift himself from the couch. "I shall be sure to hurry home, then, my dear."
"Well, I didn't mean that to chase you away, but after all, my brother is here, I don't want him to get to concerned. But I did mean what I said, I want you well rested for tomorrow night." she said as she stood and
walked him to the door to see him out.
Armand heard them stand, and he slipped out from under the table. He still crouched, behind it, waiting. He listened, apprehensive. What were they doing? Little St Just vowed to try and forget everything he had heard that night. The thought was just too grotesque.
"Of course, of course," Armand replied, standing and
allowing her to lead him to the door. "You may
apologize to him again for me, if you believe it will
help at all ... and I, for my part, will take myself
*directly* to bed." Bowing low, as was his custom, to
kiss her hand, he never moved his gaze from her face.
"And goodnight, my dear."
--Chauvelin
Marguerite let her hand turn up so her fingers would brush his cheek after
he kissed her hand. "Goodnight Armand, and don't forget tomorrow night,
be at the window at 7:30 to pick up your ticket, and I expect you to be in
my dressing room immediately after the performance."
A man as ardent for his cause as he should not have
made such an analogy, perhaps; but at that moment
(often, rather) Marguerite seemed to Armand nothing if
not some sort of queen. Monarchy, then, in the
personal sphere, was perhaps not so undesirable. He
smiled, and rose.
"You may depend on it, my dear. *Immediately* afterwards."
Marguerite smiled and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Perfect
then, I will look forward to it, goodnight then." After seeing him out,
Marguerite made her way back into the kitchen to begin the chore of
cleaning up.
Hoping she was occupied enough not to see him, Armand slowly started to inch
his way to the door of his room. 'Don't turn around, don't turn around!' He prayed silently.
Marguerite went about filling a small tub with water to clean the dished
with when she had a strange sense come over her. She turned to see Armand
sneaking into the kitchen. "So you've decided to show yourself once
more." Marguerite said, "still hungry I suppose."
"I.... well...." He nodded. "Yes, still.... hungry. Although," he added, "if
I were after food, don't you think I would have waited until you were asleep
and couldn't catch me?" Stupid kid, don't you know when to be quiet?
Marguerite stopped to give him an odd look before turning back to her
dishes. "Well then, what were you after?"
He rolled his eyes. "I was on my way to my room. May I continue in that direction, please?"
"No, you may not." Marguerite sternly said. "I thought you were in your
room. What did you come out for."
"For what did I come out," He corrected, "and no, I wasn't in my room." He
said nothing else. Not trying to defy her or anything..... He was scared.
Marguerite looked back at him. "Then where were you and what were you
doing there?"
He tried not to whimper. "U-under the table...." He stammered slightly. "T-trying to find out about the R-revolution...." Well it wasn't a complete lie....
Any second now... She would fly at him and beat him with the dishes she was washing.
Marguerite turned back to the dishes, "Oh, and what did you think?"
"I... I don't have enough information to form an educated conclusion," He said. She was making him suspicious.
"Well then, next time instead of hiding under the table you could sit out
in the parlor and listen to some of the conversation, meet some of my
guests. Some of them are rather influential and will greatly impact the
coming events." Marguerite said, "If you're not in a rush to leave, you
could help your sister and dry these dishes."
He nodded and grabbed the towel. He wiped a couple plates before he gave her
a look that clearly wondered what she was going to do to him. Besides, wash
dishes, that was.
"Well, silence is not something I hear often from you." Marguerite said,
"Do you not want to sit in on some of the discussions?"
"Funny." He gave her a patronizing glance. "One doesn't conduct discussions
from under tables, and I didn't wish to socialize with *him*. So, no, I
suppose I didn't."
"Ah, so that's what this is about." Marguerite said. "You should be
nicer to him. He did you a favor for not bringing you to the police that
day, and he was very forgiving of your behavior today. It wouldn't pain
you so much to be polite to him, or any of my other guests. You know, I
should speak to him again about you. Perhaps there is an open position at
his office for someone like you. The responsibility would be good for
you, and it would give you a bit of pocket money."
St Just dropped the plate he was drying. "Well isn't he just the most forgiving person?" Armand sneered. "There is no way I would ever work for that... that...." He finished with a word in French representing the lowest from of street-walker.
Marguerite was so shocked that she dropped the plate she was
washing. "Armand, you should be ashamed of yourself, using such
language. And, you should consider yourself lucky if you were able to
secure such a position. You're in a position now where it wouldn't hurt
you to contribute either."
"I'd love to contribute, Marguerite. Honest I would." He pushed the broken
porcelain around the floor with the toe of his shoe. "But not if it meant
working with him. They couldn't possibly pay me enough."