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When the Nightingale Sings

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Stumbling home at three a.m., Grantaire ran into Jehan Provaire at the park gates. He grabbed hold of Jehan to stop them falling, or perhaps Jehan held him up, it mattered not. They were both upright, smiling at each other.

“Well met, my friend, but why are you out at this hour?” asked Grantaire.

“I came to the park to hear the nightingale sing, but tonight it has been silent,” replied Jehan. “And you?”

“I made the nightingale sing, and then she tossed me to the curb,” said Grantaire, with a wink. “May we both have better luck tomorrow.”