Aug 20, 2012
‘“Take it,” said she.
Marius took the letter.
She made a sign of satisfaction and of consent.
“Now for my pains, promise me---"
And she hesitated.
“What?” asked Marius.
“Promise me!”
“I promise you.”
“Promise to kiss me on the forehead when I am dead. I shall feel it.”
She let her head fall back upon Marius’ knees and her eyelids closed. He thought that poor soul had gone. Eponine lay motionless; but just when Marius supposed her for ever asleep, she slowly opened her eyes in which the gloomy darkness of death appeared, and said to him with an accent the sweetness of which already seemed to come from another world:
“And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you.”
She essayed to smile again and expired.’