"Well, I think you look like an angel," Eponine replies firmly. She's not going to be persuaded away from the idea any time soon. "Like a statue, mayhaps, what has had its wings broken and now you are brought to life for us down here."
She grins again. "Maybe it were the nuns what made you so good? I hate church, me. Always when I am made to go, I must wear my Pa's old shoes to be allowed in, and what good are they when they are so big and the laces hold up my skirt, and the toes are gone so my feet squelch and slide in them?"
Eponine at least catches herself before telling Nadine about Cosette. Maybe orphans all turn out to be angels with loving husbands and men to fall in love with them? Maybe she would have been better off without her folk?
She licks her lips nervously. "Will you - and Ma'am, you might say no to me - Ma'am, will you teach me? Proper, I mean? I know numbers and letters and that, but... I showed a man once. A proper student. He didn't laugh but he had such a look in his eyes. I don't know how to call it. Sad, and maybe as you'd tell a stupid child when they try and it is wrong? Just so with Azelma, you know, when I am patient with her? I hate it. Ma'am, will you teach me so they don't again?"
Pity. She means pity. Her stomach curls even at the thought of it, and when Marius had looked at her writing and then back at her - writing she was so proud of - she'd wanted to just die on the spot.
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She grins again. "Maybe it were the nuns what made you so good? I hate church, me. Always when I am made to go, I must wear my Pa's old shoes to be allowed in, and what good are they when they are so big and the laces hold up my skirt, and the toes are gone so my feet squelch and slide in them?"
Eponine at least catches herself before telling Nadine about Cosette. Maybe orphans all turn out to be angels with loving husbands and men to fall in love with them? Maybe she would have been better off without her folk?
She licks her lips nervously. "Will you - and Ma'am, you might say no to me - Ma'am, will you teach me? Proper, I mean? I know numbers and letters and that, but... I showed a man once. A proper student. He didn't laugh but he had such a look in his eyes. I don't know how to call it. Sad, and maybe as you'd tell a stupid child when they try and it is wrong? Just so with Azelma, you know, when I am patient with her? I hate it. Ma'am, will you teach me so they don't again?"
Pity. She means pity. Her stomach curls even at the thought of it, and when Marius had looked at her writing and then back at her - writing she was so proud of - she'd wanted to just die on the spot.