Bahorel makes no pretense of not watching Jehan as he reads; both of them tend to treat it as a group activity. Bahorel shakes his head with a scowl at the mention of Tholomyes-- a slander, that comparison-- and grins at Jehan's blush over his own description, and the reaction to the rest of their friends' small biographies. Bahorel can't consider Hugo's notions of Grantaire's Tragic Love anything but a farce, but Jehan's sensitivity to such things is another matter. There's no mockery in his smile when Jehan turns back to him.

"Ah, that's been a subject of some debate. It's from thirty years after our death; after all, none of us lived in isolation, and that's time enough to gather research. Especially given that he seems to know Pontmercy very well; Marius survived, he might have given some account of some of us--if you can believe that he ever noticed half of those things." Bahorel suspects that Marius being observant may be the most impossible of theories, but it must be allowed to exist.

"Joly suspects some sort of transference of ideas across dimensions, in terms that are doubtless scientific rather than inspirational; Bossuet believes us all to be entirely fictional, except when he doesn't; Combeferre is considering all of it, and at least a dozen other theories, the last I spoke to him." As Combeferre does.

"The only certain thing is that this book is by Victor Hugo--from some world, or maybe in several worlds-- and it's well known over a century later. As to the rest--" He waves expansively. "Your ideas will be as well founded as any, and better than most."
Jehan , at least, is a writer, and a Romantic, and knows something of how that works.