“Marius made a movement.'Oh, don't go!' she said. 'It won't be long.'She was sitting almost upright, but her voice was very low and broken by hiccoughs. At moments she struggled for breath. Raising her face as near as she could to Marius', she said, with a strange expression:'Look, I can't cheat you. I have a letter for you in my pocket. I've had it since yesterday. I was asked to post it, but I didn't. I didn't want you to get it. But you might be angry with me when we meet again. Because we shall all meet again, shan't we? Take your letter.'With a convulsive movement she seized Marius' hand with her own injured one, but without seeming to feel the pain, and guided it to her pocket.'Take it,' she said.Marius took out the letter, and she made a little gesture of satisfaction and acceptance.'Now you must promise me something for my trouble...' She paused.'What?' asked Marius.'Do you promise?''Yes, I promise.''You must kiss me on the forehead after I'm dead...I shall know.'She let her head fall back on his knees; her lids fluttered, and then she was motionless. He thought that the sad soul had left her. But then, when he thought it was all over, she slowly opened her eyes that were now deep with the shadow of death, and said in a voice so sweet that it seemed already to come from another world:'You know, Monsieur Marius, I think I was a little bit in love with you.'She tried to smile, and died.”

“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’m dead. I’ll feel it.”She let her head fall back on Marius’s knees and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had gone. Eponine lay motionless, but just when Marius supposed her forever asleep, she slowly opened her eyes, revealing the somber depths of death, and said to him in an accent whose sweetness 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 tried to smile again and died.”

“Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead. --I shall feel it."She dropped her head again on Marius' knees, and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had departed. Eponine remained motionless. All at once, at the very moment when Marius fancied her asleep forever, she slowly opened her eyes in which appeared the sombre profundity of death, and said to him in a tone whose sweetness seemed already to proceed from another world:--"And by the way, Monsieur Marius, I believe that I was a little bit in love with you.”

“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 deepness of death appeared, and said to him with an accent the sweetness on 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.”

“Don't you recognize me?''No.''Eponine.'Marius bent hastily forward and saw that it was indeed that unhappy girl, clad in a man's clothes.'How do you come to be here? What are you doing?''I'm dying,' she said.There are words and happenings which arouse even souls in the depths of despair. Marius cried, as though starting out of sleep:'You're wounded! I'll carry you into the tavern. They'll dress your wound. Is it very bad? How am I to lift you without hurting you? Help, someone! But what are you doing here?'He tried to get an arm underneath her to raise her up, and in doing so touched her hand. She uttered a weak cry.'Did I hurt you?''A little.''But I only touched your hand.'She lifted her hand for him to see, and he saw a hole in the centre of the palm.'What happened?' he asked.'A bullet went through it.''A bullet? But how?''Don't you remember a musket being aimed at you?''Yes, and a hand was clapped over it.''That was mine.'Marius shuddered.'What madness! Your poor child! Still, if that's all, it might be worse. I'll get you to a bed and they'll bind you up. One doesn't die of a wounded hand.'She murmured:'The ball passed through my hand, but it came out through my back. It's no use trying to move me. I'll tell you how you can treat my wound better than any surgeon. Sit down on that stone, close beside me.'Marius did so. She rested her head on his knee and said without looking at him:'Oh, what happiness! What bliss! Now I don't feel any pain.”

“Then she looked at Marius, put on a strange expression and said to him, “Do you know, Monsieur Marius, you’re a very pretty boy?”