Montparnasse strolled leisurely to the Rue Plumet that evening. Cosette was sitting on the garden steps, softly humming a love aria, when she saw the familiar hat bobbing along the wall. Her eyes brightened, and she strode gracefully to the gate as he arrived, grasping the bars with trembling fingers.
Montparnasse painted a sweet smile on his beautiful face. He bent down to kiss her white fingers upon the iron bars. Cosette blushed.
"Do come in," she whispered, moving aside the loose bar. Montparnasse bent down and slipped in easily.
"Oh, dear, where are my manners? How are you this evening, Mlle. Cosette?" he said, removing his hat and bowing gracefully.
"Very fine, M. Montparnasse, and yourself?" she replied with a curtsy.
"I'm well, thank you, and had I been on my deathbed, your sweet voice would have revived me. Shall we walk this way?" He offered his arm and led her along the grassy path nearest the wall. They soon came upon an old wooden bench, such as one might see in the park, along the back wall, farthest from the house. They sat down there, side by side. Montparnasse had seated himself so that they were pressed together, and Cosette did not want to be rude and move away. Besides, she rather liked being so close to him.
Without another word, Montparnasse entangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her to him for a kiss. Cosette liked this feeling, and she kissed back.
Without quite knowing how, Cosette found herself lying upon the bench, with Montparnasse on top of her. And his hands.. his hands were.. "Are.. should you be?"
"Itís alright, my dove. Have you never been courted before?"
"Well, no, but.." She knew she should argue with this. It couldnít be right. Oh, but it felt delicious.
"Well, just relax. Iím going to show you how." He kissed her pale neck, and began to unfasten her dress.