"The Shadow Meets the Light"


The day Samuel arrived in Paris was cold and dark, and there was a fine sheen of rain all about. The sky was an even grey colour from all the clouds. He shivered, and drew his greatcoat closer about him, and frowned Dimitri's gentle, severe frown at the world.

He met Combeferre the next day at the college after classes had ended. Combeferre was an ordinary young man of medium height, but he had a rather nice-looking, pleasant face that attracted Samuel at once. He smiled, and it was accidentally his own smile, delighted and young, instead of Dimitri's solemn smile.

But Combeferre didn't seem to notice.

Combeferre took Samuel's hand and told him in a warm voice, which made him feel full and pleased, that it was very good to meet him at last. He was to learn that Combeferre was like this with everyone, but right then he felt rather as though the greeting was something odd and special and had been for him only in the world.

He regained his composure quickly, and told Combeferre that it was good to meet him, as well. He did it perfectly, just as Dimitri would have done. Combeferre didn't notice this, either, but Samuel was quite relieved, for it only proved he was doing things correctly.

"You remember, from my letter, that I have been learning of those who might be glad to join us?"

"Yes, of course," said Samuel, for this was in one of the letters in Dimitri's room.

"I haven't made too much progress, as I thought you might have your own ways of going about things," and Combeferre gave him a friendly smile that made him feel almost light-headed, "but there is a young man named Courfeyrac who is quite open about being a Bohemian. I should think revolution to be very appealing to him. He is that sort; not violent, but he would likely think it very amusing and highly approve of it for the poor."

Samuel nodded. "I should like to meet him."

"Oh, you will. He's rather unavoidable," Combeferre said gently.

This gave Samuel a momentary feeling of foreboding, a kind of dread, but he just looked steadily at Combeferre with his old eyes, and nodded again. "I understand."

The next moment he was almost lost his balance as a laughing young man danced over and stopped an inch short of him, beaming. "Combeferre! I say, Combeferre-- Oh, gracious me, you're not Combeferre-- Combeferre!" for he had spun about, "Combeferre, really. How could you have walked over here without me?" He kissed Combeferre's cheek in greeting, and cried out happily, "I've made the old professor furious with me again! I'm an absolute wretch, aren't I?"

Samuel decided with a sinking feeling this must be Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac had ceased leaping about, and was grinning, out of breath, at both of them. "You must forgive me. I've gained a new mistress. Rather splendid. Her name is Valerie, and she's simply star-kissed. Elates a fellow, such a thing does." He looked at Samuel over the shoulder of Combeferre, whom he had just moved behind. "Who are you, o tall one?"

"Dimitri Enjolras," Samuel said.

Courfeyrac glowed. "What a lovely name. Michel Courfeyrac, the utterly plainly named. Pleased to meet you," and he extended his arm over Combeferre's shoulder.

Samuel couldn't quite bring himself to take it, so he only made a short half-bow, with a hint of irony in it, as Dimitri would have done. Courfeyrac snorted, but didn't look particularly put out, and bounded off again in a moment, calling, "I shall see you later, 'Ferre!"

Combeferre smiled at Samuel as he stood, a little shocked. "I'm afraid he's rather exuberant. He's a good man, however, and when you've gotten to know him, nothing he does will surprise you."

"Clearly," Samuel murmured distastefully. The look of reproach on Combeferre's face made him feel instantly guilty for it, and he amended with, "I imagine he won't seem so irritating when I know him better."

Combeferre said he thought this was so, and giving Samuel a last smile, politely took his leave.

Samuel stayed by himself for a while, feeling sick and relieved and thrilled and frightened all at once. The first day was the hardest, he told himself. He had been afraid that he'd do terribly, and clearly he hadn't, because Combeferre had thought he was Dimitri, so that was all right-- He sighed, and began walking back to the boarding-house. It wasn't hard. It was, it would always be, a matter of concentration and of belief.


Chapter Four.
Back to Chapter Two.