e lettering under one of Gavarni's drawings: "A nice lot,
the friends you are capable of proceeding with!" But after all it was
merely a proof of Gavroche's kindness of heart, for he was quite able to
polish off the plateful himself.

The cat who bore the name of the interesting Eponine was more lissome
and slender in shape than her brothers. Her mien was quite peculiar to
herself, owing to her somewhat long face, her eyes slanting slightly in
the Chinese fashion, and of a green like that of the eyes of Pallas
Athene, on whom Homer invariably bestows the title of ~glaukopis~, her
velvety black nose, of as fine a grain as a Perigord truffle, and her
incessantly moving whiskers. Her coat, of a superb black, was always in
motion and shimmered with infinite changes. There never was a more
sensitive, nervous, and electric animal. If she were stroked two or
three times, in the dark, blue sparks came crackling from her fur. She
attached herself to me in particular, just as in the novel Eponine
becomes attached to Marius. As I was less taken up with Cosette than
that handsome youth, I accepted the love of my affectionate and devoted
cat, who is still the assiduous companion of my labours and the delight
of my hermitage on the confines of the suburbs. She trots up when she
hears the bell ring, welcomes my visitors, leads them into the
drawing-room, shows them to a seat, talks to them--yes, I mean it, talks
to them--with croonings and cooings and whimpers quite unlike the
language cats make use of among themselves, and which simulate the
articulate speech of man. You ask me what it is she says? She says, in
the plainest possible fashion: "Do not be impatient; look at the
pictures or chat with me, if you enjoy that. My master will be down in a
minute." And when I come in she discreetly retires to an arm-chair or on
top of the piano, and listens to the conversation without breaking in
upon it, like a well-bred animal that is used to society.

Sweet Eponine has given us so many proofs of intelligence, kindly
disposition, and sociability that she has been promoted, by common
consent, to the dignity of a _person_, for it is plain that a higher
order of reason than instinct guides her actions. This dignity entails
the right of eating at table like a person, and not from a saucer in a
corner, like an animal. So Eponine's chair is placed beside mine at
lunch and dinner, and on account of her size she is allowed to rest her
fore paws upo