She stops to listen to him. How beautiful his words are. How uplifting and positive... How she wishes he could have been her father. Perhaps life would have been different. But perhaps life in the slums would have tainted Hope, too?
She wants desperately to believe his words, but what has she done? Robbed the sick and the elderly, pushed over children to take ytheir coins, sold herself to anyone who would have her, robbed even from the dead.

And what else can she do? No education. Barely literate. Who would employ such a useless lump? Engrained insults take ages to fade, and Eponine can't forget. Good only for a lookout or a quick pass in an alleyway.

And then, she remembers something she can do. "I can sing, monsieur..." but what good is that? Good to attract customers...

"I wish I could change, but I am afraid I am the devil, monsieur."