"Alas, Jean," sighed Arielle Raine, star of the Paris stage. "I would run away with you to England, but how can I leave my work?"

Valjean stroked her thick auburn hair, whose streaks of premature silver made him feel they had so much in common. "Never fear, I would look after you, and Cosette would be good company for you."

Arielle shook her head, her signature braids swinging, and her silver eyes shone with tears. A passing stagehand called her a crybaby, before leaving the theatre and promptly being murdered in an alley. Meanwhile Arielle pleaded her case with breathtaking eloquence, and Valjean went sadly home to pack.

"Oh no!" said Arielle to the mirror. "I have forsaken my one true love! If I call a cab now I can meet him at the dock." So she did, and they lived happily ever after in the Cotswolds. The end.