The
Sound of Misères
Act Two
Scene
One
Les Amis are skipping through the streets of Paris wearing
clothes Grantaire has made for them out of curtains (fortunately, being
Enjolras’s curtains, they are tricolour ones) and singing perfectly, with R skipping
along in front of them with his guitar (he can’t play it, of course, but at
least he looks the part) humming “I’d like to teach the world to sing, in
perfect harmony…”. Eventually they arrive at the Plaine d’Issey, where Enjolras
is preaching republicanism to a group of rather apathetic-looking members of
the Cougourde d’Aix he’s trying to enlist.
Enjolras: Fraulein Grantaire! Have
they been singing again?
Grantaire: Oh yes. Actually, they’ve
been telling me that you sing yourself from time to time.
Enjolras: [going scarlet and
spluttering] What! I do no such thing! I scarcely notice a rose, am
unconscious of the springtime and pay no heed to the singing of birds. [sniffs
loftily]
All: Oooooooooooooh!
Courfeyrac: Well, you still got all
the best lines in the musical.
Combeferre: Oh, we got some good ones
too, though.
Courfeyrac: “Join in the fight that
will give you the right to be freeeeeeee!”
Bahorel: Can we not talk about the
musical?
Enjolras: Look, I had
to do all the singing, I’m the big cheese. Or grand fromage, as it were. [Musing
to himself] I quite like that, “grand fromage”.
Grantaire: …So anyway, I thought you
could all sing together, might talk some of these chaps into joining the fight
that will give them the right to be freeeeeeeeeeeeeee -
Enjolras: What?!
Feuilly: Well, it worked in the
musical… [ducks a punch from Bahorel]
Les Amis: The streets are alive, with the sound of émeute,
Bossuet & Joly: Aaa-aaa-aaa-aaah!
Les Amis: With songs they have sung since ’93…
Enjolras stands on a convenient table and begins to sing in a
voice which is, rather predictably, perfect and ringing and resonates all the
way through Paris.
Enjolras: The streets fill my heart with the sound of émeute,
Bossuet & Joly: Aaa-aaa-aaa-aaah!
Enjolras: My heart wants to shoot all the bourgeois scum it sees…
Cougourde d’Aix 1: Now that’s how a
heroic band of idealistic revolutionaries should sound.
Cougourde d’Aix 2: I’ll say. Shall we
join in the fight that will give us the right to be freeeeeeeee?
Cougourde d’Aix 3: We’re not doing
anything else next week, are we?
Cougourde d’Aix 1: Oh, come on, it’ll
be a laugh.
Cougourde d’Aix 2&3: Agreed.
Throughout this Grantaire is watching Enjolras with a look of
inexpressible rapture on his face. It’s all terribly sweet. Good grief, I’m
starting to sound like Jehan. Anyway -
Enjolras: So are you with us?
All of Cougourde d’Aix, plus everyone
else in Paris [shouting exuberantly]: YES!
Enjolras: Gosh, that was easy.
Courfeyrac [bouncing]:
Ooooooh!! Oooooh! Can we have a party to celebrate??
Enjolras: Certainly not. I scarcely
notice a rose, am unconscious of the springtime –
Bossuet &Joly: Oh, give us a
break!
All of Cougourde d’Aix, plus everyone
else in Paris: Yes! Give us a break!
Enjolras: [looks at Grantaire
doubtfully. Quite likes the idea of seeing him in a posh dress.] Oh….all
right then.
Les Amis: YES!! [All link arms and
dance around a bit, even Combeferre]
Grantaire: Oooh…we could do a song
for the guests…
Enjolras: You know, Fraulein
Grantaire, I think I preferred you as a sceptical dissolute with no earthly
purpose except to get up my proverbial nose. [glares, then exits huffily]
Bossuet: He has a proverbial nose?
Joly: Can’t be healthy.
Scene
Two
They arrange to have the party at Corinth, conveniently enough,
and it’s all very flash. Les Amis have been practising terribly hard and
Grantaire draws everyone’s attention to them, standing on the stairs about to
do their Big Singing Thing.
(Join in when you
know the words…)
All: Regretfully
they tell us, but firmly they compel us
To
say good-bye… to you!
So
long, farewell, we really hate to go –
Combeferre: To tell the truth, I’d rather read Rousseau… [Courfeyrac kicks
him; he exits]
All: So
long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good-night -
Courfeyrac: My room’s
upstairs, the first one on the right…[winks to the ladies as Jehan gives him
a gentle shove and he leaves]
All: So
long, farewell, adieu and au revoir –
Jehan: [crimson] Errrrrrrrrrr….
[just runs away without waiting to be kicked]
All: So
long, farewell, adieu, auf wiedersehen -
Feuilly: I’m sad to leave – but Poland’s not to blame… [Joly
boots him off]
All: So
long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu:
Laigle&Joly: We’ve
both got more important things to do… [Bahorel boots them off – still
holding hands - looking mildly disgusted]
Bahorel: I get a line! And about *!&$ing time! [Waving
good-bye] Good-bye!
[The others reappear and wave too]
Les Amis: Good-bye…!!
Audience: Good-byyyyyyyyyyye!!
Audience bursts into rapturous applause. Even Enjolras cannot
help sneaking an admiring glance – well, admiring for him – at Grantaire, who
is batting his eyelids and looking bashful, if a little bit sloshed already.
Les Amis, not being six-year-old children who really do have to go to bed, just
carry on partying. Enter Marius and Cosette, because they had to come into it
somewhere, didn’t they.
Enjolras: Er, Fraulein Grantaire,
this is Uncle Marius.
Grantaire: Your uncle?
Enjolras: I don’t know. There just
has to be an uncle in it somewhere.
Grantaire: I was going to say, he’s
younger than you.
Enjolras: And a Bonapartist. [Glares
at Marius, who just grins lamely.]
Cosette: I’m Baroness Pontmercy. Do
you like my shoes?
Marius: So, anyway, we were thinking
of getting Les Amis to enter a singing contest.
Enjolras: [snorts] Impossible.
They’ll all be dead by June.
Marius [grinning]: I won’t.
Enjolras: Oh, shut up, you smug
married Bonapartist dork.
Cosette is flirting outrageously with
Enjolras – well, wouldn’t you? – to which both he and Marius are oblivious and
Grantaire is anything but. Cosette notices this and, with an excuse far more
plausible than anything I can come up with at the moment, drags R off into a
corner.
Grantaire: I know none of us were
really involved in this thread of the story, Baroness Pontmercy, and I’m sure
I’d have been inebriated past consciousness if we had been, but
I’m sure you’re married to Marius; I mean you do have the same surname…
Cosette: I am. But it’s not as if
there’s much contest between the two, is there?
Grantaire [a little too plastered
to be subtle]: Bloody hell no.
Cosette: Well, that was easy. [Haughtily]
You will have to leave.
Grantaire: Leave!?
Cosette: You are a nun,
dearie. Although you do drink rather a lot, and at times you look suspiciously
like a man. Off you go then. Go on! Back to the convent! [Shoos Grantaire
out of the door and slams it behind him] Mwahahahaha! Mwhahahahaa! [stops
herself sharply] Good lord, I’ve turned into Doctor Evil.
Scene Three
Les Amis are at the gates of the convent trying to talk Fantine
and Jean Valjean into letting them in to see Grantaire.
Fantine: Look, you’ll have to talk to
Inspector Mother Abbess – [Jehan blushes and gives her a rose, Courfeyrac
gives her a winning smile, she’s rapidly melting…] Sister Jean Valjean!
Where’s Sister Grantaire?
Jean Valjean: Eh? Oh, talking to Inspector Mother Abbess, I
think.
In Javert’s office – he is pacing
about with his truncheon again…
Javert: Tell me quickly, what’s the story?
How’d
you screw up this time, dear?
Much
as we all love you, Sister,
It’s been great without you here.
Grantaire just looks at him.
Javert: My child – [wonders what
made him say that. Must be getting too good at his job, as usual] – my
child, it won’t do to run away from your problems…
Javert stands by the window so the bright sunlight illuminates his magnificent sideburns, and starts to, well, squeal:
Climb ev’ry mountain,
Chase each ex-con,
Follow ev’ry Frenchman,
Till you find Valjean!
Grantaire [wincing at the last
note]: Inspector Mother Abbess, much as I admire that soaring soprano of
yours, you haven’t really helped me at all, have you?
Javert: I am a representative of the
law. You want advice, write to an agony aunt. [Looks out of the window and
picks up his truncheon] I’m going to see if those kids have got any snuff.
Honest work, just reward…[Leaves Grantaire banging his head against the
wall]
Jean Valjean: Ah, Inspector Mother Abbess! These
suspicious-looking revolutionaries want to talk to you –
Gavroche [disguised as a small and
very scruffy nun]: It’s Inspector Javert!
Bossuet: Is it really? Gosh, it is!
Will you look at that!
Javert: Inspector Inspector Javert,
thank you.
Courfeyrac [instantly over-excited]: Take the bastard now
and shoot him!
Feuilly: Let us
watch the devil dance!
Bossuet: You’d
have done the same, Inspector,
If we’d let
you have -
Combeferre [mildly]: A bit
harsh, you lot; he is a nun after all.
Courfeyrac: Oh. Of course. [Brightens
again] Can we tie him to a post? And take him home with us?
Les Amis: Yay! [They do so, in
their glee quite forgetting about Grantaire.]
Scene
Four
Les Amis march back to Corinth, carrying an obliging Javert, who
is lapping up the attention, still in his nun’s habit tied to a post. Enjolras
is talking to Baroness Pontmercy, Marius’s new hat and Marius’s new suit,
rather surprisingly not with Marius inside – he’s gone to sit for an
examination.
Enjolras [glaring at Javert]: Good
grief. Where did you get that?
Feuilly: A bleeding convent, what
does it look like?
Enjolras: Oh. Anyway, these two [glares
at them] Bonapartists would like to hear you sing.
Combeferre: Oh. Okay. [They start
to sing, very badly.]
Les Amis: Waving red flags, wearing tricolour sashes…
Marius’s suit: Do you hear the people sing?
Cosette: Yes, and they’re not very
good, are they?
Marius’s hat: I’ll say.
Les Amis: Valjean refusing (the wimp!) to join in…
Suddenly a far-away voice is heard to sing “These are a few of
my favourite things!” and Grantaire bursts in, to Cosette’s inexpressible
annoyance.
Les Amis: Fraulein Grantaire!
Enjolras: Fraulein Grantaire! [Is
delighted, but glares anyway. Old habits die hard]
Grantaire: Got any absinthe?
Cosette: [rolling her eyes]:
Can we have a word, Enjolras? [Drags Enjolras away from R’s adoring
fan-club] I was hoping you’d ask me to marry you –
She is encountered with a cold dismissive stare, like the
opening of an abyss, which should have taught her not to confuse the Cherubini
of Beaumarchais with the cherubim of Ezekiel.
Cosette: Well, that’s taught me not
to confuse the…thing with the…doobry… Come along, Marius! [She exits and
Marius’s new hat and suit follow after, much in the manner of a puppy.]
Grantaire: Have you heard from that scruffy impoverished
illiterate character lately, Courfeyrac?
Courfeyrac: Marius? Oh, he’s gone to sit for a –
Combeferre: I think he’s referring to young Éponine.
Courfeyrac: Who?
Feuilly: You could do better, you know,
she seemed a bit, well, unhinged to me.
Joly: Didn’t wash enough for my
liking either. Can’t be healthy.
Enjolras [beckoning Grantaire over
out of view of Les Amis, who are now busy blowing raspberries at Javert, and
holding R’s hands]: Why did you leave?
Grantaire: Well, Baroness Pontmercy
accused me of fancying the pants off you – entirely correctly, of course – and [batting
eyelids] what is a girl to do?
Enjolras [abruptly releasing
Grantaire’s hands and glaring, horror-struck]: You’re a girl?!
Grantaire: Do I look like a girl?
Enjolras: I can’t help thinking
Courfeyrac would have tried it on with you by now if you did.
Grantaire: Well, that’s what I
thought. It fooled the nuns, though.
They resume holding hands and gaze
into each others’ eyes for a particularly revolting song (or so I’ve always thought – you can hear it here…)
Grantaire: Perhaps I was a hopeless rebel - [Enjolras nods]
Perhaps I was a useless nun - [Javert nods]
But somewhere in my drunken, cynical past,
There must be some good that I’ve done. [Enjolras looks
confused.]
For here you are, standing there loving me,
(For you, it’s hard to admit),
Enjolras: Although you’re a sceptical, profligate slug -
Pylades, I love you to bits.
Les Amis have not noticed the charming, if slightly disturbing,
scene going on across the room and are writing rude words on Javert.
Jehan [writing a villanelle on
Javert’s wimple and decorating him with daisy-chains]: So what are we going
to do with this, er, what is it –
Joly: Snake in the grass, Jehan.
Bossuet: Good grief, you think you’d know your own lines.
Jehan: I’m a little traumatised, actually; I might not have
ended up with that [he’s slightly choked, the poor love] f-firing squad if
you lot hadn’t been playing around with this character –
Feuilly: Oh, fair point. Although you
would have been shot eventually anyway.
Bahorel: Blimey! Look at those two!
All turn to see Enjolras and Grantaire engaged in a kiss. A long
and heartfelt “awwwwww” runs through the group. And you too, I hope.
Combeferre: I don’t want to get on my
moral high horse or anything but, you know, you ought to get married; the good
must be innocent and all that.
Feuilly: Well, Javert’s kind of a priest isn’t
he?
Javert: Inspector Priest, thank you.
Jehan [sniffling dramatically]: Oh,
June’s the best month for a wedding after all…
Enjolras: It’s June already?!
They realise the wedding bells are in
fact the alarm bells of Saint-Merry and hear the National Guard marching up the
street. Enjolras flies into a panic.
Enjolras: B-b-but we haven’t got a
barricade or guns or ammunition or a nice flash red vest with poncey gold braid
on it or anything and….[bursts into tears, it’s been rather a long day]
Grantaire: [gives him a hug]
There there. [To Les Amis] Into your positions, everyone.
They drag all the wine-casks out of
Corinth and arrange them in the Rue de la Chanvrerie, ripping up a few paving
stones because Bahorel felt like it, then tear down the new tricolour curtains
and drape them rather fetchingly over the wine-casks. No, I don’t mean
Grantaire the wine-cask. That’d be silly.
Bossuet: It’s good, isn’t it?
Joly: Oh yes. It’s all Feng Shui, as
well. See how we’ve aligned the barrels along the north-south axis – [Bahorel
hits him.]
All of them, including Enjolras and
Grantaire, stand on the, er, barricade and begin singing. (Oh
dear.)
Combeferre: Do, a deer, a female deer,
Courfeyrac: Re, a drop of golden sun;
Jehan: Mi, a name I call myself,
Feuilly: Fa, a long long way to run;
Bossuet: So, a needle pulling thread…
Comb & Courf: …pulling thread…
Joly: La, a note to follow so…
Jehan & Feuilly: …follow so…
Bahorel: Ti, a drink with jam and bread…
R & Enjolras: …which will take us back to…
Comb & Courf: Do…
Jehan & Feuilly: …a deer, a
female deer…
National Guardsman 1 [sobbing
heartily]: Oh, they’re beautiful.
National Guardsman 2 [dropping his
musket]: You’re right. We can’t shoot them. [They hug]
National Guardsman 3: …Re, a drop of
golden sun…
All the National Guard: Mi, a name I
call myself…
Everyone: Fa, a long long way to run…
So,
a needle pulling thread…
Javert: …pulling thread…
Everyone: La, a note to follow so…
Mere Hucheloup:…Follow so…
It’s all going rather well when Enjolras suddenly picks up his
carbine – he never goes anywhere without it, even to bed – and aims it at a
National Guardsman, who is fortunately too busy singing to notice.
Combeferre [putting a hand on his
arm]: Ah, just put the gun down, Enjy, the good must be – [Enjolras
glares at him. He squeaks] – innocent…
Jehan: We can conquer them with the
power of song! [To Feuilly] Isn’t that lovely?
Feuilly: Didn’t work in the musical
though, did it?
Bahorel: Only because I wasn’t in it.
Grantaire: Don’t do it! We’ve won
them over already! We can run away together into a new republican dawn and sing
songs about lonely goatherds!
Enjolras [still aiming the gun –
hands are shaking]: I can’t! I have to do it! I have to live fast and die
young and become a figment of Victor Hugo’s imagination to be immortalised as a
golden-haired Apollo by Les Mis fans who inevitably envision me getting
together with some other fictional entity – usually you!
Combeferre: To be fair, Enjolras,
hasn’t that happened in this story already?
Courfeyrac: Well, near enough, eh? [nudges
Enjolras bawdily and receives a not-unexpected glare]
Grantaire: They’ve got a point…[grins
hopefully, flutters eyelids]
Enjolras [lets his carbine drop to
the ground]: Oh, stuff it. Gets a bit dull being all high and mighty after
a while, anyway.
Enjolras smiles for the first time in his life and the shock
causes Joly, having a somewhat delicate constitution, to faint into Bossuet’s
arms. On his recovery Les Amis begin a conga – still singing “Do, a deer” - led
by Enjolras waving a flag just because he has to, down the Rue de la
Chanvrerie, joined in by:
Javert (somewhat encumbered by the post), Mère Hucheloup, the
entire National Guard, the artillery chap Enjolras shot, and, arriving rather
inexplicably, the nuns Fantine, Jean Valjean, Gavroche and Sister Simplice (why
not), Cosette and Marius (now wearing his clothes), Éponine (waving to
Courfeyrac, but he has his eye on Sister Simplice) and the rest of the
Thénardiers, Mabeuf, Patron-Minette – reformed and rehabilitated (and
resurrected in the case of Claquesous), M. Gillenormand and his daughter,
Toussaint, Fauchelevant, Saint-Just (causing Enjolras to stop temporarily in
order to obtain his autograph), André Chénier (ditto, but with Jehan) – the
last two without their heads - and, of course, the great M’sieur Hugo himself.
In his own words, the idea is terrifying to behold.
Absolutely everyone, Barricades in the Rue de la
Chanvrerie,
including you, dear Gunfire deaf’ning the bells of
Saint-Merry,
Reader!: Shooting bourgeois who yell “Long
live the King!”:
These
are a few of my favourite things!
THE END
(thank goodness)
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