1926 Les Miserables
murmured:—
‘It is he.’
And turning to Marius:—
‘My brother is here. He must not see me. He would scold
me.’
‘Your brother?’ inquired Marius, who was meditating in
the most bitter and sorrowful depths of his heart on the du-
ties to the Thenardiers which his father had bequeathed to
him; ‘who is your brother?’
‘That little fellow.’
‘The one who is singing?’
‘ Ye s .’
Marius made a movement.
‘Oh! don’t go away,’ said she, ‘it will not be long now.’
She was sitting almost upright, but her voice was very
low and broken by hiccoughs.
At intervals, the death rattle interrupted her. She put her
face as near that of Marius as possible. She added with a
strange expression:—
‘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 for it when we meet again presently? Take
your letter.’
She grasped Marius’ hand convulsively with her pierced
hand, but she no longer seemed to feel her sufferings. She
put Marius’ hand in the pocket of her blouse. There, in fact,
Marius felt a paper.
‘Take it,’ said she.