Really, Eponine always seemed to be surrounded by people who were the opposite of her in every way.
First it had been Azelma. Dear, precious Azelma who hadn't been able to stand their parents' neglect and abuse. Who had died coughing up blood-spattered mucus, huddled under a bridge on the banks on the Seine with so many others.
Then it had been Marius. Sweet, innocent Marius whose grandfather hadn't managed to ruin him like Eponine's parents had ruined her. Who had been more loved than he had realized, than Eponine ever could be. Eventually Eponine had fallen out of love with him. She hadn't been able to love after Azelma had died and when she could again she didn't love him. She loved Cosette.
Fashionable, dainty, free Cosette who everyone loved more than themselves. Whose father didn't eat for love of her and whose lover had cried for hours when she told him she was moving across the Channel. How Eponine loved Cosette. She spent hours watching through the garden gates although every time Cosette smiled at Marius it stabbed through her heart like a poison lance.
Cosette who was perfect in every way and would never have glanced at Eponine had she passed her in the street.