"Take it," she said.
Marius took the letter, and she gave a nod of satisfaction and consolation.
"Now, for my trouble, promise me—"
And she stopped.
"What?" Marius asked.
"Promise me!"
"I do promise!"
"Promise to kiss me on the forehead when I am dead; I shall feel it."
She let her head fall again on Marius's knees and her eyes closed; he fancied the poor soul departed. Éponine remained motionless; but all at once, at the moment when Marius believed her eternally asleep, she slowly opened her eyes, on which the gloomy profundity of death was visible, and said to him with an accent whose gentleness seemed already to come from another world,—
"And then, look you, Monsieur Marius, I think that I was a little in love with you."