moment by moment.
He was failing; he was drawing near to the gloomy horizon.
His breath had become intermittent; a little rattling interrupted it.
He found some difficulty in moving his forearm, his feet had lost all movement, and in proportion as the wretchedness of limb and feebleness of body increased, all the majesty of his soul was displayed and spread over his brow.
The light of the unknown world was already visible in his eyes.
His face paled and smiled.
Life was no longer there, it was something else.
His breath sank, his glance grew grander.
He was a corpse on which the wings could be felt.
He made a sign to Cosette to draw near, then to Marius; the last minute of the last hour had, evidently, arrived.
He began to speak to them in a voice so feeble that it seemed to come from a distance, and one would have said that a wall now rose between them and him.
"Draw near, draw near, both of you.
I love you dearly.
Oh! how good it is to die like this!
And thou lovest me also, my Cosette.
I knew well that thou still felt friendly towards thy poor old man.
How kind it was of thee to place that pillow under my loins!
Thou wilt weep for me a little, wilt thou not?
Not too much.
I do not wish thee to have any real griefs.
You must enjoy yourselves a great deal, my children.