I used every means to make her confess the real cause of her distress, but she persisted in giving me nothing but vague reasons, as I have told you. At last she fell asleep in my arms, but it was the sleep which tires rather than rests the body. From time to time she uttered a cry, started up, and, after assuring herself that I was beside her, made me swear that I would always love her.
I could make nothing of these intermittent paroxysms of distress, which went on till morning. Then Marguerite fell into a kind of stupor. She had not slept for two nights.
Her rest was of short duration, for toward eleven she awoke, and, seeing that I was up, she looked about her, crying:
"Are you going already?"
"No," said I, holding her hands; "but I wanted to let you sleep on. It is still early.""What time are you going to Paris?"
"At four."
"So soon? But you will stay with me till then?""Of course. Do I not always?"
"I am so glad! Shall we have lunch?" she went on absentmindedly.
"If you like."
"And then you will be nice to me till the very moment you go?""Yes; and I will come back as soon as I can.""You will come back?" she said, looking at me with haggard eyes.
"Naturally."
"Oh, yes, you will come back to-night. I shall wait for you, as Ialways do, and you will love me, and we shall be happy, as we have been ever since we have known each other."All these words were said in such a strained voice, they seemed to hide so persistent and so sorrowful a thought, that I trembled every moment lest Marguerite should become delirious.
"Listen," I said. "You are ill. I can not leave you like this. Iwill write and tell my father not to expect me.""No, no," she cried hastily, "don't do that. Your father will accuse me of hindering you again from going to see him when he wants to see you; no, no, you must go, you must! Besides, I am not ill. I am quite well. I had a bad dream and am not yet fully awake."From that moment Marguerite tried to seem more cheerful. There were no more tears.
When the hour came for me to go, I embraced her and asked her if she would come with me as far as the train; I hoped that the walk would distract her and that the air would do her good. I wanted especially to be with her as long as possible.
She agreed, put on her cloak and took Nanine with her, so as not to return alone. Twenty times I was on the point of not going.
But the hope of a speedy return, and the fear of offending my father still more, sustained me, and I took my place in the train.
"Till this evening!" I said to Marguerite, as I left her. She did not reply.
Once already she had not replied to the same words, and the Comte de G., you will remember, had spent the night with her; but that time was so far away that it seemed to have been effaced from my memory, and if I had any fear, it was certainly not of Marguerite being unfaithful to me. Reaching Paris, I hastened off to see Prudence, intending to ask her to go and keep Marguerite company, in the hope that her mirth and liveliness would distract her. Ientered without being announced, and found Prudence at her toilet.
"Ah!" she said, anxiously; "is Marguerite with you?""No."
"How is she?"
"She is not well."
"Is she not coming?"
"Did you expect her?"
Madame Duvernoy reddened, and replied, with a certain constraint:
"I only meant that since you are at Paris, is she not coming to join you?""No."
I looked at Prudence; she cast down her eyes, and I read in her face the fear of seeing my visit prolonged.
"I even came to ask you, my dear Prudence, if you have nothing to do this evening, to go and see Marguerite; you will be company for her, and you can stay the night. I never saw her as she was to-day, and I am afraid she is going to be ill.""I am dining in town," replied Prudence, "and I can't go and see Marguerite this evening. I will see her tomorrow."I took leave of Mme. Duvernoy, who seemed almost as preoccupied as Marguerite, and went on to my father's; his first glance seemed to study me attentively. He held out his hand.
"Your two visits have given me pleasure, Armand," he said; "they make me hope that you have thought over things on your side as Ihave on mine."
"May I ask you, father, what was the result of your reflection?""The result, my dear boy, is that I have exaggerated the importance of the reports that had been made to me, and that Ihave made up my mind to be less severe with you.""What are you saying, father?" I cried joyously.
"I say, my dear child, that every young man must have his mistress, and that, from the fresh information I have had, Iwould rather see you the lover of Mlle. Gautier than of any one else.""My dear father, how happy you make me!"
We talked in this manner for some moments, and then sat down to table. My father was charming all dinner time.
I was in a hurry to get back to Bougival to tell Marguerite about this fortunate change, and I looked at the clock every moment.
"You are watching the time," said my father, "and you are impatient to leave me. O young people, how you always sacrifice sincere to doubtful affections!""Do not say that, father; Marguerite loves me, I am sure of it."My father did not answer; he seemed to say neither yes nor no.
He was very insistent that I should spend the whole evening with him and not go till the morning; but Marguerite had not been well when I left her. I told him of it, and begged his permission to go back to her early, promising to come again on the morrow.
The weather was fine; he walked with me as far as the station.
Never had I been so happy. The future appeared as I had long desired to see it. I had never loved my father as I loved him at that moment.
Just as I was leaving him, he once more begged me to stay. Irefused.
"You are really very much in love with her?" he asked.
"Madly."
"Go, then," and he passed his hand across his forehead as if to chase a thought, then opened his mouth as if to say something;but he only pressed my hand, and left me hurriedly, saying:
"Till to-morrow, then!"
