I do not know... I think, at home, I would soon be dead. But that is... well, I cannot change that. I think I will either starve or be murdered; six months, perhaps, if I am lucky. The winter will get me this year.

[That probably seems really depressing... but Eponine is nonchalant about it all. And she truly doesn't fear her death at all.]

Czes is a boy, no? Not a goat? Can a person be a pet, Sir?