She kept her gaze focused on Marius, though she no longer struggled in Combeferre's arms. Something about this felt strangely familiar.

"You have done the same as all the other men to me. They hurt, with words or fists, as have you, now." She wanted to get out of his arms. But she couldn't dare.

The door, back to the kitchen, away from the inn's dining room loomed in front of them, Eponine's hand still reaching for Marius. She had not stopped her crying, and likely would not for some time. "No- no. There is nothing. Nothing to swear on. I do not believe in promises."