[hyaciinthus]

Perhaps the worst thing about pregnancy was how quickly one outgrew clothes. At least, that was Montparnasse's opinion. He tolerated the nausea in his first months, and the sore back and ankles, and the constant discomfort, but the fact that he could no longer button his favorite waistcoat was, to him, a tragedy. He was forced, therefore, to walk around Paris with his waistcoat and jacket undone and his shirt riding up over his belly like a potbellied drunkard.
Today was a bit more tolerable. The Parton-Minette was planning a robbery, which Montparnasse wasn't allowed to take part in because he would just slow them down, and this gave him a day's worth of free time to wander around the city. Maybe he could find Eponine and spend the day with her? He was fond of Eponine, fonder of her than of anyone else he knew (which said little, but was true nonetheless). So he made his way down a narrow side-street in hopes of finding her. Suddenly, though, a sharp pain tore through him; he had been experiencing pains like this sporadically for the past couple of weeks. They had become more frequent in the past few days, but never like this! Montparnasse grimaced as another contraction hit, and held his belly as if that would help, leaning against the wall of the alley.