The Agony of Death After the Agony of Life — Les Misérables

The attack of the barricades is almost always made from the front. The insurgents' whole attention had been directed to the grand barricade. But Marius thought of the little barricade, and went thither. It was deserted and guarded only by the fire-pot which trembled between the paving-stones. As he was withdrawing, he heard his name pronounced feebly in the darkness. Monsieur Marius! He started, for he recognized the voice which had called to him two hours before through the gate in the Rue Plumet. Only, the voice now seemed to be nothing more than a breath. He looked about him and saw no one. He thought he had been mistaken. Monsieur Marius! repeated the voice. This time he could not doubt. At your feet, said the voice. He bent down, and saw in the darkness a form which was dragging itself towards him. It was crawling along the pavement. The fire-pot allowed him to distinguish a blouse, torn trousers of coarse velvet, bare feet, and something which resembled a pool of blood. You do not recognize me? No. Eponine. It was, in fact, that unhappy child. She was dressed in men's clothes. How come you here? I am dying, said she.

Marius cried out and tried to pass his arm under her. She uttered a feeble cry. He had only touched her hand. She raised it, and in the middle of that hand he saw a black hole. It is pierced. What with? A bullet. Did you see a gun aimed at you? Yes, and a hand stopping it. It was mine. He shuddered and said it was nothing, that one does not die of a pierced hand, that he would carry her to a bed. The bullet traversed my hand, but it came out through my back. It is useless to remove me from this spot. Sit down near me on this stone. He obeyed. She laid her head on his knees. Oh, how good this is. How comfortable this is. There; I no longer suffer. She turned her face with an effort. You thought me ugly, didn't you? You see, you are lost. It was I who led you here. You are going to die, I count upon that. And yet, when I saw them taking aim at you, I put my hand on the muzzle of the gun. How queer it is. But it was because I wanted to die before you. I dragged myself here, no one saw me, I was waiting for you. Now I am well. Every one is going to die. As she talked, she pressed her pierced hand to her breast, where there was another hole, and whence there spurted from moment to moment a stream of blood, like a jet of wine from an open bung-hole.

At that moment the young cock's crow executed by little Gavroche resounded through the barricade. The child had mounted a table to load his gun, and was singing. Eponine raised herself and listened. It is he. My brother is here. He must not see me. He would scold me. Marius, who was meditating on the duties to that family which his father had bequeathed to him, asked who her brother was. That little fellow. The one who is singing. Oh, don't go away, said she. It will not be long now. At intervals the death rattle interrupted her. Listen, I do not wish to play you a trick. I have a letter in my pocket for you. I was told to put it in the post. I kept it. I did not want to have it reach you. But perhaps you will be angry with me when we meet again presently? Take your letter. She grasped his hand convulsively with her pierced hand, and put it in the pocket of her blouse. There, in fact, he felt a paper. Now, for my trouble, promise me. He promised. Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead. I shall feel it. She dropped her head again on his knees, and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had departed. All at once 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, I believe that I was a little bit in love with you. She tried to smile once more and expired.