['Of acquaintance', he had thought to be a kindness. He should never pretend not to know her name or her face, and he should offer her help, where he was capable of it. But friend? Friends with a woman? Was such a thing even possible? His only attachment to the gender in general was through Cosette; the rest, he felt in a way, laughed at him and thought him very dull or stupid. He in return found them strange and dim by comparison to his Cosette. There were the women of family, who he had no opinion on, but was good to. The older ladies, who were not so much women in his mind, but matrons. The young ones, who were but girls and to whom he felt the protective fondness of an adult, perhaps. But 'women' as they were, young and unmarried and fancily-dressed... such apparitions almost frightened him, at times. He should not wish to talk to them on their own, for fear of being found wanting, or for the worse fear of wounding Cosette.
Eponine, as it were, was not so much one such woman. She looked older beyond her years and she had marks of poverty so severe that she had the full attention of Marius' pity, without awakening the sensations that speaking with her might be out of line with modesty, owing to her age and her lack of male attachment.
However, trips to her home, when she had new dresses and bonnets, for tea... these were markings of ladies, the ladies that Marius dutifully avoided. Even he knew that such a thing was impossible, even with such a girl as this. It would be improper.
...Still.
Still, her words hit him as truly and deeply as she had meant for them too, as truly and deeply as his own lack of words had unintentionally hit her. That he is wounded shows plainly. He paled mildly, eyes going a bit wider and lips parting, his brow showing a sort of confusion over so cruel a comment.
The hurt remains on his face, but not in his eyes, whose gaze slowly hardened with anger.
His voice, when he found the will to speak, carried the marks of both.]
You had made a promise to me not to bring such a matter up, against my Cosette. You had given me your word.
[He reminded, a little appalled.]
This meanness is unwarranted. I will not have another word of it, do you hear me? Not another sound of it. [Snapped, raising his voice just barely by the end, exceedingly ruffled by the jab.]
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Eponine, as it were, was not so much one such woman. She looked older beyond her years and she had marks of poverty so severe that she had the full attention of Marius' pity, without awakening the sensations that speaking with her might be out of line with modesty, owing to her age and her lack of male attachment.
However, trips to her home, when she had new dresses and bonnets, for tea... these were markings of ladies, the ladies that Marius dutifully avoided. Even he knew that such a thing was impossible, even with such a girl as this. It would be improper.
...Still.
Still, her words hit him as truly and deeply as she had meant for them too, as truly and deeply as his own lack of words had unintentionally hit her. That he is wounded shows plainly. He paled mildly, eyes going a bit wider and lips parting, his brow showing a sort of confusion over so cruel a comment.
The hurt remains on his face, but not in his eyes, whose gaze slowly hardened with anger.
His voice, when he found the will to speak, carried the marks of both.]
You had made a promise to me not to bring such a matter up, against my Cosette. You had given me your word.
[He reminded, a little appalled.]
This meanness is unwarranted. I will not have another word of it, do you hear me? Not another sound of it. [Snapped, raising his voice just barely by the end, exceedingly ruffled by the jab.]