He was always a dangerous man, that Pontmercy sort.

[No, if anything, Marius was a lamb. Though she'd seen a side of him at the barricade that impressed her deeply. Or would have, had she not been busy dying.]

His beloved. I knew her, before, and we called her a lark. Just a frail little bird of a girl.

No, I didn't speak with him. I knew if he saw me he would scold me. He was younger than me, but always seemed much older.