"Why, yes," says Matelote brightly. She's bustling around the counter, putting away various things, and perhaps that's why she doesn't seem to notice the tears in Joly's eyes.
"They look very happy," Combeferre says gently. And in a way, isn't this good news? To know that there is a world where this happened? He searches for a way to convey this to Joly, without having Matelote think he's a madman. "It's good to see proof of such happiness--to know that it's real, at least for some people."
Against his will, Combeferre's eyes stray back to the picture of himself and Enjolras, a few years older. A scientist and a statesman, Matelote had said. Combeferre didn't want fame, but to know he'd made a contribution to science--that he would have made a contribution to science--no. Not would, did, in this world. In this world it's a thing that happened, and that is, in its own bizarre way, a happy thought.
no subject
"They look very happy," Combeferre says gently. And in a way, isn't this good news? To know that there is a world where this happened? He searches for a way to convey this to Joly, without having Matelote think he's a madman. "It's good to see proof of such happiness--to know that it's real, at least for some people."
Against his will, Combeferre's eyes stray back to the picture of himself and Enjolras, a few years older. A scientist and a statesman, Matelote had said. Combeferre didn't want fame, but to know he'd made a contribution to science--that he would have made a contribution to science--no. Not would, did, in this world. In this world it's a thing that happened, and that is, in its own bizarre way, a happy thought.