He said, "Do you love me?"
She replied by sobbing that Paradisaic word, which is never more charming than through tears, "I adore you."
He pursued, with an accent which was an inexpressible caress,—
"Do not weep. Will you do so much for me as to check your tears?"
"Do you love me?" she said.
He took her hand.
"Cosette, I have never pledged my word of honor to any one, because it frightens me, and I feel that my father is by the side of it. Well, I pledge you my most sacred word of honor that if you go away I shall die."
There was in the accent with which he uttered these words such a solemn and calm melancholy that Cosette trembled, and she felt that chill which is produced by the passing of a sombre and true thing. In her terror she ceased to weep.
"Now listen to me," he said; "do not expect me to-morrow."
"Why not?"