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The next day, Combeferre relayed the news to Prouvaire. He was delighted by the proposition.
“It is simply a marvelous idea. A workingman’s café with a working woman. How perfect for our cause. No matter what she looks like, her ardent devotion to freedom will make her whole face radiant with beauty. I must write a poem on it; I must. As soon as I see her, I know the muse shall move me. A common woman in a common café lit by the spirit of revolution. Whose wonderful idea was this enchanted meeting?”
“Grantaire. And it is not enchanted. I think we may depend on the quality of the wine for the choice of the location, and the girl surely has beauty enough from nature. Prouvaire, you know Courfeyrac well enough by now to understand how his heart functions. The invitation should be indication enough of her beauty.”
“Enchanted shall it remain in my mind. Combeferre, thank you for this lovely thought. Even a bit of your cynicism cannot kill the muses. This inspiration shall carry me through tomorrow.”
“Very well. I’ll see you then.”
Prouvaire found his book and began writing as Combeferre watched him with a smile. “Well, until tomorrow, then.” Jehan smiled and went back to his writing as Combeferre walked out.
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Chapter 17 ~ Fiction ~ Chapter 19 ~ Home