"But how? You won't find a carriage."
"I will walk."
"But it is raining."
"No matter."
"But madame will be coming back, or if she doesn't come it will be time enough in the morning to go and see what has kept her.
You will be murdered on the way."
"There is no danger, my dear Nanine; I will see you to-morrow."The good girl went and got me a cloak, put it over my shoulders, and offered to wake up Mme. Arnould to see if a vehicle could be obtained; but I would hear of nothing, convinced as I was that Ishould lose, in a perhaps fruitless inquiry, more time than Ishould take to cover half the road. Besides, I felt the need of air and physical fatigue in order to cool down the over-excitement which possessed me.
I took the key of the flat in the Rue d'Antin, and after saying good-bye to Nanine, who came with me as far as the gate, I set out.
At first I began to run, but the earth was muddy with rain, and Ifatigued myself doubly. At the end of half an hour I was obliged to stop, and I was drenched with sweat. I recovered my breath and went on. The night was so dark that at every step I feared to dash myself against one of the trees on the roadside, which rose up sharply before me like great phantoms rushing upon me.
I overtook one or two wagons, which I soon left behind. Acarriage was going at full gallop toward Bougival. As it passed me the hope came to me that Marguerite was in it. I stopped and cried out, "Marguerite! Marguerite!" But no one answered and the carriage continued its course. I watched it fade away in the distance, and then started on my way again. I took two hours to reach the Barriere de l'Etoile. The sight of Paris restored my strength, and I ran the whole length of the alley I had so often walked.
That night no one was passing; it was like going through the midst of a dead city. The dawn began to break. When I reached the Rue d'Antin the great city stirred a little before quite awakening. Five o'clock struck at the church of Saint Roch at the moment when I entered Marguerite's house. I called out my name to the porter, who had had from me enough twenty-franc pieces to know that I had the right to call on Mlle. Gautier at five in the morning. I passed without difficulty. I might have asked if Marguerite was at home, but he might have said "No," and Ipreferred to remain in doubt two minutes longer, for, as long as I doubted, there was still hope.
I listened at the door, trying to discover a sound, a movement.
Nothing. The silence of the country seemed to be continued here.
I opened the door and entered. All the curtains were hermetically closed. I drew those of the dining-room and went toward the bed-room and pushed open the door. I sprang at the curtain cord and drew it violently. The curtain opened, a faint light made its way in. I rushed to the bed. It was empty.
I opened the doors one after another. I visited every room. No one. It was enough to drive one mad.
I went into the dressing-room, opened the window, and called Prudence several times. Mme. Duvernoy's window remained closed.
I went downstairs to the porter and asked him if Mlle. Gautier had come home during the day.
"Yes," answered the man; "with Mme. Duvernoy.""She left no word for me?"
"No."
"Do you know what they did afterward?"
"They went away in a carriage."
"What sort of a carriage?"
"A private carriage."
What could it all mean?
I rang at the next door.
"Where are you going, sir?" asked the porter, when he had opened to me.
"To Mme. Duvernoy's."
"She has not come back."
"You are sure?"
"Yes, sir; here's a letter even, which was brought for her last night and which I have not yet given her."And the porter showed me a letter which I glanced at mechanically. I recognised Marguerite's writing. I took the letter. It was addressed, "To Mme. Duvernoy, to forward to M.
Duval."
"This letter is for me," I said to the porter, as I showed him the address.
"You are M. Duval?" he replied.
"Yes.
"Ah! I remember. You often came to see Mme. Duvernoy."When I was in the street I broke the seal of the letter. If a thunder-bolt had fallen at my feet I should have been less startled than I was by what I read.
"By the time you read this letter, Armand, I shall be the mistress of another man. All is over between us.
"Go back to your father, my friend, and to your sister, and there, by the side of a pure young girl, ignorant of all our miseries, you will soon forget what you would have suffered through that lost creature who is called Marguerite Gautier, whom you have loved for an instant, and who owes to you the only happy moments of a life which, she hopes, will not be very long now."When I had read the last word, I thought I should have gone mad.
For a moment I was really afraid of falling in the street. Acloud passed before my eyes and my blood beat in my temples. At last I came to myself a little. I looked about me, and was astonished to see the life of others continue without pausing at my distress.
I was not strong enough to endure the blow alone. Then Iremembered that my father was in the same city, that I might be with him in ten minutes, and that, whatever might be the cause of my sorrow, he would share it.
I ran like a madman, like a thief, to the Hotel de Paris; I found the key in the door of my father's room; I entered. He was reading. He showed so little astonishment at seeing me, that it was as if he was expecting me. I flung myself into his arms without saying a word. I gave him Marguerite's letter, and, falling on my knees beside his bed, I wept hot tears.
