June 4, 1832, Rue Plumet
"I love you."
She just blurted it out, without thinking. It was at the worst possible moment, when he had just given her a letter addressed to another girl. This wasn't how she had planned on telling him. She didn't know if she had been planning on telling him at all. She had been dropping hints for months, years, she had lost track now, but for some reason he had always been blind. Now, it was all out in the open, and there was silence. Silence from her, silence from Marius. Silence and shock at her boldness.
He cast his eyes downward in shame. "Just give it to her... please," he whispered. Then he disappeared down the street as fast as his legs would carry him, without a backward glance.
Éponine collapsed to the ground sobbing. She had never sobbed so hard in her life, not even when her father or Montparnasse beat her or when she had gone to jail. What a fool she had been to tell him how she felt with so little grace, in the midst of his infatuation with Cosette! She had ruined everything. Now she knew why it was better for women to hold their peace. Marius would hate her forever now, she was sure of it. She couldn't bear for Marius to hate her. But there was still one thing she could do...
She tore off a tiny corner of the letter and began to scratch a message onto it. If there was a God, Cosette's father would find it, and the one thing standing between her and Marius would be gone forever.
Suddenly Marius returned, running back down the cobblestones, and Éponine hastily shoved the slip of paper into her pocket. Why on earth was he coming back? Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Her heart pounded against her ribs as she waited expectantly for him to take her into his arms. But instead he held her at a distance and began to speak.
"Éponine, don't you get it? I do know how you feel about me, and have known for some time. It's because I know that I sent you to find Cosette for me. I thought maybe it would be a gentle way to tell you that I don't love you. You'll get over me, Éponine. Because the truth is, we're just not right for each other. I hate to have to tell you this way, but I thought you deserved to know the truth. You've been a good friend."
But I haven't been a good friend, Éponine thought sadly, looking down at her feet. I've conspired to get you killed on the barricade. What worse kind of false friend can there be? I've betrayed you. You think there's no honor among thieves, but you'll never find a group of friends more loyal to each other than Patron-Minette. I'm even worse than Papa.
For the first time, Marius really looked at Éponine, trying to read her gaunt and grimy face. He thought he saw a vague sense of guilt, but couldn't imagine why she would be feeling guilty. After all, it was he who had put her in this position. Pushing back his natural disgust and inhibitions, he touched her sharp, bony shoulder and held his fleshy hand there as long as he dared.
"It's not fair, Éponine," he told her. "I wish I could apologize for not finding my way to loving you. But to be honest, I don't regret one single moment that I spent with Cosette. I'm sorry if that's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth." And with that, he left again, this time for good.