Marius kept his promise. He dropped a kiss on that livid brow, where the icy perspiration stood in beads. This was no infidelity to Cosette; it was a gentle and pensive farewell to an unhappy soul.
It was not without a tremor that he had taken the letter which Éponine had given him. He had immediately felt that it was an event of weight. He was impatient to read it.
The heart of man is so constituted that the unhappy child had hardly closed her eyes when Marius began to think of unfolding this paper. He laid her gently on the ground, and went away.
Something told him that he could not peruse that letter in the presence of that body. He drew near to a candle in the tap-room. It was a small note, folded and sealed with a woman’s elegant care.
The address was in a woman’s hand and ran:— 'To Monsieur, Monsieur Marius Pontmercy, at M. Courfeyrac’s, Rue de la Verrerie, No. 16. ' He broke the seal and read:— 'My dearest, alas! my father insists on our setting out immediately.
We shall be this evening in the Rue de l’Homme Armé, No. 7. In a week we shall be in England. COSETTE. June 4th. ' Such was the innocence of their love that Marius was not even acquainted with Cosette’s handwriting.
What had taken place may be related in a few words. Éponine had been the cause of everything.
After the evening of the 3d of June she had cherished a double idea, to defeat the projects of her father and the ruffians on the house of the Rue Plumet, and to separate Marius and Cosette.
She had exchanged rags with the first young scamp she came across who had thought it amusing to dress like a woman,