Combeferre is almost ready to shout from frustration. He now understands why, several months ago, Enjolras came back from a conversation with Valjean looking exhausted.
(It's all the more disturbing that Valjean wears Enjolras's face while speaking these miserable, beaten words).
"Marius's aunt will not love Mme Pontmercy as her father does, nor will the staff. And the strongest lady might have need of her father's love. Monsieur," he says, leaning forward earnestly, "your love for her is so plain and so deep. Why deny her that? Out of a small, thin fear, which you yourself have acknowledged is unlikely to come true? And, perhaps, out of your unwarranted sense of self-blame--wholly unwarranted, monsieur, for I know you to be among the best of men, I know it from Enjolras and from Victor Hugo and from the evidence of my own eyes at the barricade. You think your daughter would agree with this blame, but I can tell you, no rational soul would, let alone a generous and affectionate one. That fear and blame needn't rob you and your daughter of the further joy you might bring each other. Or the protection you might give her."
He takes a deep breath. "Forgive me, I know I'm speaking out of turn. But I cannot watch a man so grievously wound himself, and his daughter, without saying something about it." Combeferre gestures at the half-eaten food. "At least eat something, and consider what I've said, if you will not agree to it here and now."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-11-21 05:35 am (UTC)(It's all the more disturbing that Valjean wears Enjolras's face while speaking these miserable, beaten words).
"Marius's aunt will not love Mme Pontmercy as her father does, nor will the staff. And the strongest lady might have need of her father's love. Monsieur," he says, leaning forward earnestly, "your love for her is so plain and so deep. Why deny her that? Out of a small, thin fear, which you yourself have acknowledged is unlikely to come true? And, perhaps, out of your unwarranted sense of self-blame--wholly unwarranted, monsieur, for I know you to be among the best of men, I know it from Enjolras and from Victor Hugo and from the evidence of my own eyes at the barricade. You think your daughter would agree with this blame, but I can tell you, no rational soul would, let alone a generous and affectionate one. That fear and blame needn't rob you and your daughter of the further joy you might bring each other. Or the protection you might give her."
He takes a deep breath. "Forgive me, I know I'm speaking out of turn. But I cannot watch a man so grievously wound himself, and his daughter, without saying something about it." Combeferre gestures at the half-eaten food. "At least eat something, and consider what I've said, if you will not agree to it here and now."