"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. I entered 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 I have 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 I have 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, I would 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. I refused.

"You are really very much in love with her?" he asked.

"Madly."

"Go, then," and he pa.s.sed 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!"

Chapter 22

It seemed to me as if the train did not move. I reached Bougival at eleven.

Not a window in the house was lighted up, and when I rang no one answered the bell. It was the first time that such a thing had occurred to me. At last the gardener came. I entered. Nanine met me with a light.

I went to Marguerite's room.

"Where is madame?"

"Gone to Paris," replied Nanine.

"To Paris!"

"Yes, sir."

"When?"

"An hour after you."

"She left no word for me?"

"Nothing."