The sun sat early into night, the sullen wind blew the clouds revealing a supercilious moon that the sun perished to be quenched by its glare.

The deep pensive stars were sunken into the sky and scattered all around the cimmerian black night. Their light mixing with a moonbeam glorified the soft snowflakes on Christmas Eve, helping these vivid drops of snow make a valorous, valuable, and remarkable extremity to their quest upon his shoulder.

Under the shelter of a big pine tree sat two willowy figures that could luster to create a eminence of their own.

In the wilderness of the plain snow they sat insulated by the moonbeam. He twiddled her hair with his fingers, veraciously and passionately but she did not seem to react. Anyone who walked by would swear it was Enjolras, despite the girl, and it was Enjolras who sat there offering the moon a glory that was more majestic and beams of grand lights that would blind every single star in the sky that night.

She was not exceptionally beautiful like her partner but managed to make the blood go through his valves reviving or creating a heart that never existed before.

He bent and kissed her on her lips; he knew he would not do that if she was awake. All he needed was human affection to enlighten his path and unveil the barriers of dim shadows.

The sombre forest was her solitary. She was injured and he soothed her pain with his hand. He was sorely tempted to stay beside her forever.

He did not know if it was the fabric of his destiny or her good fortune that led him there to be at her side and see her bid the world her last farewell.

He handled her with a great dignity as if she was as fragile as tender glass.

A diabolic thought made him desecrate his decent nature and he moved a hand further down and rested it against her breast betraying therefore his excellent nature.

She was covered in his Robespierre coat and her hands were freezing as her warm delicate lips turned cold and colourless.

The thought of losing her frenzied him so he tightened his grip around her like a mother who was anxious to protect her child.

Her balmy breath alleviated his fear and comforted him, her heart was beating gently and the sound of it's beats were mixing with Enjolras' own heartbeats. "Patria" he said resting her head against his shoulder.

Her face lighted with pain and purity like never before and her pulse became weaker.

Patria was a victim of the society, of poverty and treachery, she was abandoned by her parents and did not have anyone to turn to and he loved her from far away; she was the only girl who managed to break the layers that concealed his eyes and made his heart beat.

He moved his hand to her forehead and kissed her goodbye on the lips when her heart could no longer beat.

*   *   *   *   *

Four years had passed since that incident, and Patria's absence created yet another wall around Enjolras's heart to shelter him against what he usually referred to as "abstract happiness" --love.

It was Christmas once more and he thought his heart could no longer decay by declining to the level of love, it was devoted to God and then the republic but nothing else and he could swear that upon the divine lights of Christmas.

His heart was ablaze with delirious raging fires and hopes to revive Patria... the motherland.

Enjolras was reloading his gun when Marius approached him.

"Merry Christmas," said Marius.

Enjolras smiled faintly and replied, "Same to you, Marius, where is everyone?"

"We are all in the café yonder with our girls, want to join?" asked Marius.

"No thank you, I am contented here and would rather stay where I am," replied Enjolras solidly.

"Come on," said Marius, but Enjolras said nothing and looked down, then turned his face to Marius again and gazed at him blankly.

"Enjolras, you don't mid me asking you a question, do you?" asked Marius.

"Well, it depends on what you are going to ask, but it's worth trying, so I suggest you go on," said Enjolras.

"You are the dream of every girl around and I have not seen yet satisfied with any of them," said Marius.

"And what is the question?" asked Enjolras

"What I just said, do not you think it's time to rest and settle with a paramour?" asked Marius.

"By God, Marius, I do not know what you are talking about," said Enjolras.

"I sometimes feel like betraying all of you for the sake of my dearest Cosette," said Marius.

"Marius, you won't be betraying us, but the republic, if you abandon us when we most need you. I leave it a free choice whether you choose to stay with the girl or prefer the ceaseless happiness. May the heavens help you choose your path on this holy day," said Enjolras, and with that he left Marius behind and made his way out.

He was walking unconsciously to the pine tree as if Marius' speech had hypnotized him, conceiving his life if Patria lived and visualizing the pallid face of the dead girl.

He stood there motionless and petrified, the vision ahead of him was blurred with marble tears that dropped like diamonds, it seemed more like yesterday, only the earth no longer had her blood stains.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and a cold voice hissing, "The barricade boy."

"Javert..." he said turning around to find the immense body of the inspector. Their eyes met and he saw in Javert a great resemblance to the girl.

He unsentimentally walked towards the inspector and collapsed into his arms.

The liberty, justice, angry uprising collapsed into the hands of the law to create rays that united to make a beam promising to revive a grander and greater Patria.

The promise engraved on both of their hearts made the two immortal figures sparkle under the twinkle of the eternal snowflakes in the Christmas night, promising to put down the dim sun of today and live in darkness to retrieve it tomorrow and push it to rise more brightly make a plight for godness and life.

The rejoicing splendor of the day brought the caroling voices singing of a world that would shine tomorrow, of a night that will, accompanied with the blood of martyrs, urge a brighter sun to rise up above every cloud with each constant sincere and faithful thought of Patria... the motherland.

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