[Eponine firmly believes she’ll die alone and unloved, however much she dreams for something else.]
A real man is like the prince in a fairy story. Kind and patient and good looking. No? And he falls in love with a beautiful girl. That’s what I want. I want to be beautiful so he’ll fall for me.
SPOILERS [The beautiful prince falling in love with a beautiful girl. He remembers reading a similar story to his daughters. One had been stolen by a witch and returned battered and bruised; the other still lives in the darkest pages of such a story. Scarred by living a life he would wish on nobody.]
Have you thought about painting such beauty yourself? To paint the life you want. To paint the man you want. Rather than await his arrival in your life?
[Art is a window. Art is a mirror. Art is a release.]
You insist it is impossible. But what if I were to teach you?
[His head angles gently to one side. His demeanour is open, calm and patient. He is used to the embarrassment of a young woman who struggles to accept her inner beauty.]
[Perhaps if she has a skill like that, she’ll be more ladylike and attract the right kind of man. Like a student - a poet? Someone thoughtful and caring? She brightens.]
I’d like that, Sir. And if I can repay, only with my word, Sir, I’ll do what you ask you know?
[His family are no strangers to selfishness and manipulation.]
Then we shall begin with the basics. Cleaning brushes, stretching canvases, grinding pigments. One must learn how to embody the work before they can create it.
[Every offer and gift has a cost. A favour. A responsibility.]
[He notices that thinning line of displeasure; the angry expression of a child who wanted something now rather than later.]
Paints and brushes require meticulous care, mademoiselle. How are you to paint a canvas if you never learn how to mount it? How are you to paint if your equipment is broken?
[He almost laughs. But not at her; he is not laughing at her.]
My master had me cleaning brushes for nearly two years. One to two hours daily admist other responsibilities. I hardly plan to inflict the same upon yourself.
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[Eponine firmly believes she’ll die alone and unloved, however much she dreams for something else.]
A real man is like the prince in a fairy story. Kind and patient and good looking. No? And he falls in love with a beautiful girl. That’s what I want. I want to be beautiful so he’ll fall for me.
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SPOILERS
[The beautiful prince falling in love with a beautiful girl. He remembers reading a similar story to his daughters. One had been stolen by a witch and returned battered and bruised; the other still lives in the darkest pages of such a story. Scarred by living a life he would wish on nobody.]
Have you thought about painting such beauty yourself? To paint the life you want. To paint the man you want. Rather than await his arrival in your life?
[Art is a window. Art is a mirror. Art is a release.]
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[She looks down, suddenly embarrassed.]
Sir, does anything I have told you of my life make you believe I can paint? That I have enough to buy such things? I can’t paint
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[His head angles gently to one side. His demeanour is open, calm and patient. He is used to the embarrassment of a young woman who struggles to accept her inner beauty.]
The only cost would be your time.
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[Perhaps if she has a skill like that, she’ll be more ladylike and attract the right kind of man. Like a student - a poet? Someone thoughtful and caring? She brightens.]
I’d like that, Sir. And if I can repay, only with my word, Sir, I’ll do what you ask you know?
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[His family are no strangers to selfishness and manipulation.]
Then we shall begin with the basics. Cleaning brushes, stretching canvases, grinding pigments. One must learn how to embody the work before they can create it.
[Every offer and gift has a cost. A favour. A responsibility.]
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But this man is being nice. He's listened to her, and despite knowing what she is, he's giving her an honest job. Clearly he cares a little bit.
So Eponine smiles.]
Thank you, Sir. I shan't let you down.
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Paints and brushes require meticulous care, mademoiselle. How are you to paint a canvas if you never learn how to mount it? How are you to paint if your equipment is broken?
[He almost laughs. But not at her; he is not laughing at her.]
My master had me cleaning brushes for nearly two years. One to two hours daily admist other responsibilities. I hardly plan to inflict the same upon yourself.