She withdrew her hand and went on, in a tone which could have rent the heart of an observer, but which did not even graze Marius in his intoxicated and ecstatic state:—
“Oh! how glad you are!”
A cloud swept across Marius’ brow. He seized Éponine by the arm:—
“Swear one thing to me!”
“Swear!” said she, “what does that mean? Come! You want me to swear?”
And she laughed.
“Your father! promise me, Éponine! Swear to me that you will not give this address to your father!”
She turned to him with a stupefied air.
“Éponine! How do you know that my name is Éponine?”
“Promise what I tell you!”