Courfeyrac writes several letters, visits quite a few people who haven't seen him since he was that tall, and eats dinner at several astronomically expensive restaurants before he manages to convince Madame Chenevier that he and his good friend are students of law who are passionately interested in the new royal family and how the upheavals have affected them. When she is at last convinced, it is another few weeks before she summons him late one evening and tells him that in two days, he and his friend may meet several members of the royal family if they can be at the appropriate palace at three in the afternoon. Courfeyrac answers in the voluble affirmative and hastens to inform Enjolras of their appointment.

When the day comes, they are there half an hour early, dressed in their least foppish clothing, as if they had a court date instead of a royal audience. A servant conducts them to the gardens, where the last flowers of autumn are in full force. A small boy runs across their path chasing a ball. He is closely pursued by a harried nurse shouting, "Antoine! Henri! Come back, your devilish highnesses!"

Under the cover of this uproar, Enjolras permits himself a small smile and murmurs to Courfeyrac, "How fast do you think they'd have us out of here if we referred to himself in that fashion?"

Courfeyrac grins. "Enough to make your hair curl, I'm sure. That poor dear woman."

"This way, messieurs," the servant says, and leads them to a gazebo among tall, sculpted cedars. Inside, a young man is reading a book and two boys are holding a staged battle with small figures of soldiers and cannon. "Your Highnesses," and the servant bows low. After a small hesitation, Courfeyrac and Enjolras follow suit.

The young man sets his book aside with a small smile. "Good afternoon, messieurs."

Courfeyrac smiles at the young man with perhaps less deference than is due to him. "Good afternoon, your highness. I am Aimery Courfeyrac, I believe Madame Chenevier has spoken to you of me? and this is my friend, Ariel Enjolras."

Enjolras nods as he is introduced.

"Ah, of course." The second smile comes easier than the first, and lightens the rather stolid look. "I remember. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, both." He stands, stepping gingerly over toy soldiers. "Perhaps we should step outside."

"As you will," Courfeyrac says smoothly, and sidesteps a bit, as floor has suddenly become scarce.

Enjolras gets out of the way after a moment, glancing at Courfeyrac for cues. He studies the prince they have come to meet with a little more focus than one should perhaps exhibit upon encountering royalty.

Ferdinand pauses a little way off, under the trees. "A little too close in there for so many," he explains, "and when once those two have settled to something--"

"It seems a shame to waste the peace and quiet?" Courfeyrac suggests.

"Something like that," with a grin.

Enjolras shakes his head a little. "I don't know how you could study with them underfoot -- your highness," with the last added as a sort of afterthought.

"Practice," says his highness equably. "You have younger brothers, M. Enjolras?"

"No, I don't -- your highness. Unfortunately, I have no siblings."

"Ah. One learns a certain detachment, you see," wryly, "from all but the most determined sort of havoc."

"Difficult to imagine," Courfeyrac says, a shade too innocently.

Ferdinand chuckles. "I'm sure it isn't."

Enjolras smiles a little. "It seems a valuable skill."

"Which?" lightly. "Imagining havoc?"

Enjolras blinks. "No, it would seem that anyone in a position of power should be able to tune out disturbances, up to a point, of course, in order that he may continue on with his duties to the people. Of course, too much complacence in the face of trouble and one finds oneself on the way to the scaffold, but there are many more minor troubles in a country on a daily basis, and if the leader were to be distracted by all of them, he would not be able to rule as effectively as he should." He hears belatedly that he has introduced himself and hypothetically guillotined his host in less than five minutes and blushes.

Ferdinand regards him bemusedly. "No doubt. You seem to have given the matter some thought, m'sieur-- are you quite all right?" This to Courfeyrac, who has suddenly been visited with a persistent cough, and who conveys by feeble gesticulations that he will be in a minute.

"I've given it some thought, yes, monsieur," Enjolras says, looking with feigned fascination at a flower.

"That is interesting," slowly. "Would you care to elaborate?"

Enjolras gives him a moment's unguarded, almost frightened look before he arranges his features into a mask of normality. "It's the same set of dilemmas that force an otherwise responsible leader to delegate some of what must be done to less than ideal councillors. A country is far too large for any one man to govern, let alone contain -- L'état, if you'll pardon me, n'est pas vous. A disagreement between three minor landholders in Provence captures their imaginations, yes, but it may not master the king's mind for more than half a moment so that he may decide, should his underlings fail to divine the truth, the proper way in which to handle the problem. It is so much noise, so many small boys banging on the door of his office, so many people with complaints. At times, it would almost be better if there were no one man who could be considered solely responsible," and he tempers this with a smile, "for the weight that can conceivably fall on his shoulders is great."

Ferdinand listens gravely, his arms folded in an attitude not unlike Enjolras' own when he is attentive. After the latter has finished, he is silent a moment. "You are eloquent, m'sieur," he says at last. "And rather surprising."

Enjolras bows his head, acknowledging the compliment. "Thank you."

Courfeyrac lets out a breath, glancing between them, and for once finds it wisest to keep his mouth shut.

Ferdinand grins outright. "And not at all shy."

Enjolras laughs, surprised. "No, I'm not terribly shy."

"Another point in your favor," cheerfully.

"Now," Courfeyrac says flippantly, recovering his composure, "your highness has done it. He will now be completely irrepressible, and his professors will not thank you."

Enjolras gives Courfeyrac a sharp look. "He exaggerates, monsieur, terribly."

"I doubt that somehow," Ferdinand says, amused.

Courfeyrac grins at his friend. "I have never exaggerated in my life."

"No?" Enjolras says lightly. "Shall I ask your thousand mistresses about that?"

Ferdinand chuckles, as Courfeyrac, going slightly red, shoots back, "Now who exaggerates?"

Enjolras gives Courfeyrac a sunny, innocent smile. "You were telling me about them just the other day." And then he remembers that the third party is not some good friend, and loses his composure. "I am sorry, your highness."

Ferdinand shakes his head. "No matter, m'sieur. No doubt it's merited." He gives Courfeyrac a friendly smile, by way of saying that it's all in good fun. "I take it you keep each other in line."

Courfeyrac looks wry. "More or less."

"On certain subjects," Enjolras agrees, relaxing enough to smile a little again.

Ferdinand smiles back. "Probably just as well." And, glancing away for a moment, "I'm afraid I must take my leave shortly -- but perhaps, another time, we can speak again." Looking back, his eyes meet Enjolras' briefly.

"Perhaps." Enjolras fishes in his pocket for a calling card and proffers it. "If you like, your highness." There is something slightly too earnest in his demeanor.

Courfeyrac bites his lip firmly, tucking his hands behind his back.

Ferdinand blinks, and looks thoughtfully at Enjolras a moment before accepting it with a smile. "Thank you."

Enjolras nods. "It was a pleasure, monsieur."

"Likewise," politely. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

"Good afternoon," Enjolras says softly, and bows.

Courfeyrac follows suit, uncharacteristically restrained. Not till they are safely on their way home does he give way to sputtering. "Good God."

"Are you quite all right?"

"My God, man, that-- you--" He thumps Enjolras on the back, speechless.

"What?" Enjolras blinks at him.

Courfeyrac draws a deep breath. "That went infinitely better than I feared."

Enjolras shakes his head. "Did you think I'd shout 'Vive la République' in his face?"

"Of course not, but any number of things could have gone wrong, and my God, Ariel, he took to you."

"I noticed," mildly.

"I didn't think. Expect. Something." Courfeyrac slings an arm around his shoulders.

"I didn't know what to expect," Enjolras agrees. He lets out a deep breath. "Well."

"Well." Courfeyrac shakes his head. "We've done it."

"Thank you." Enjolras pats his shoulder.

"Oh, I know," grinning at him. "I hardly did anything."

"You got us there." Enjolras sighs. "For all the good it did."

"It didn't do any harm, now did it?"

"I don't know if we gained anything." Enjolras glances at him.

"Something. Perhaps not much, but something."

"I hope you're right."

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