Chapter 6 Chapter Six

When I went to see Armand, he was lying in bed. As soon as he saw me, he stretched out his hot hand to me. "You have a fever," I told him. "It's okay, it's just that I'm tired from rushing on the road." "Have you come back from Sister Marguerite's?" "Yes, who told you?" "I already know, have you negotiated what you want to do?" "It's done, but who told you I was going out? Who told you what I was going out for?" "The gardener of the cemetery." "Did you see that grave?" I dared not answer, for the tone of his voice suggested that he was still in the same pain as the last time I saw him.Whenever his own thoughts or other people's conversation touched the subject that hurt him, his excitement was overwhelmed for a long time.

So I just nodded and said I've been there. "Is the tomb well tended?" continued Armand. Two big teardrops rolled down the patient's cheek, he turned his head away from me, I pretended not to see it, tried to divert the conversation, and talk about something else. "You have been away for three weeks," I said to him. Armand wiped his eyes with his hand and answered me: "For three weeks." "Your journey has been long." "Well, I haven't been on the road all the time. I was ill for two weeks, or I would have been back, but I had a fever when I got there, and I had to stay in my room."

"You came back before you fully recovered from your illness." "If I stay there another week longer, maybe I'm going to die there." "But now that you have come back, you should take good care of your health. Your friends will come to visit you. If you agree, I will be the first friend to visit you." "In two hours, I'm going to get up." "Then you are too reckless!" "I must get up." "What is your urgent business?" "I must go to the sheriff once." "Why don't you entrust someone else to do it? It would make your illness worse if you did it yourself."

"Only by doing this can I be cured. I must see her. Since I knew she was dead, especially since I saw her grave, I can't sleep anymore. I can't imagine being The girl who was so young and beautiful when we parted is no longer alive. I must see it to believe it. I must see what God has done to someone so beloved as me, perhaps this frightening sight Will heal my aching longing. You'll come with me, won't you? . "What did her sister say to you?" "Without saying anything, she was very surprised to hear that a stranger wanted to buy a piece of land to build a tomb for Margaret. She immediately agreed to my request and signed the power of attorney."

"Listen to me, wait until you are fully recovered from your illness before going to do this relocation." "Oh, don't worry, I'll be all right. Besides, I might go mad if I don't get this done right now, while I have the resolution to do it. This will cure me of my pain. I swear to you that I am at peace only after seeing Marguerite. It may be a longing in a fever, a dream of a sleepless night, a reaction to a delirium; Whether he will become an ascetic like Monsieur Launces will be discussed later." ①Lance (1626-1700): He lived a dissolute life when he was young. After the death of his mistress Mrs. Montbazon, he believed in religion and became an ascetic monk.

"I understand that," I said to Armand, "and I am at your service; have you seen Jules Duprat?" "Yes. Ah! I saw her the day I came back." "Did she give you the diary Marguerite left with her?" "This is." Armand took a roll of paper from under the pillow, but immediately put it back. "I can memorize everything written in these diaries," he said to me. "I have read these diaries a dozen times a day for three weeks. You can read them later, but you will have to wait until later." In a few days, when I am a little calmer, when I can explain to you all the love and inner confession written in these diaries, you can read it.

"Now, I want to ask you to do something." "What's up?" "You have a car parked down there?" "yes." "Then, would you please take my passport and go to the post office to see if there are any letters left for me? My father and sister must have sent me letters in Paris. The last time I left Paris I was in such haste that I didn't have time to inquire before I left. When you come back from the post office, we will go together and inform the sheriff about the burial tomorrow." Armand handed me the passport, and I went to the Rue Jean-Jacques-Rousseau.

There were two letters addressed to M. Duval, which I took and returned. When I got back to his house, Armand was fully dressed and ready to go out. "Thank you," he said to me, taking the letter. "Yes," he added, looking at the address on the envelope, "yes, my father and my sister sent it to me. They must not understand Why didn't I reply." He opened the letters, barely reading them, just glanced at them, each of which consisted of four pages, and in a moment he folded them. "Let's go," he said to me, "I'll write back tomorrow."

We arrived at the sheriff, and Armand handed over to him the power of attorney from Sister Marguerite. The sheriff accepted the power of attorney and gave him a notice to the cemetery keeper in exchange; it was agreed to move the burial at ten o'clock the next morning.I went to see Armand an hour before the event, and then we went to the cemetery together. I'm also very interested in participating in such a relocation, and to be honest, I didn't get a good night's sleep. Even my mind is in a mess, one can imagine how long this night was for Armand! When I arrived at his home at nine o'clock the next morning, he was frighteningly pale, but still calm.

He smiled at me and held out his hand. The few candles were finished, and before going out, Armand took a thick letter addressed to his father, in which he must have confided his feelings of the night. Half an hour later, we arrived at the Montmartre Cemetery. The Sheriff is already waiting for us. We all walked slowly towards Marguerite's grave, the sheriff in front, Armand and I followed a few steps behind. I felt my companion's arms twitching incessantly, as if a cold snap had suddenly passed through him.So I looked at him, and he understood my look and smiled at me.But after leaving his house, we never even exchanged a word.

When he was about to reach the grave, Armand stopped and wiped the bean-sized beads of sweat on his face. I also took advantage of this opportunity to breathe a sigh of relief, for my own heart seemed to be clamped tightly in a vice. How could there be any pleasure in such a painful occasion!When we came to the grave, the gardener had removed all the pots and the iron fence, and two men were digging the soil. Armand leaned against a tree and watched. It was as if all his life was concentrated in those two eyes. Suddenly, a pickaxe touched the stone and made a harsh sound. At the sound, Armand recoiled as if from an electric shock, and squeezed my hand so hard that it ached too. A gravedigger picked up a huge shovel and removed the accumulated soil from the tomb bit by bit; at last, only the stones that covered the coffin remained in the tomb, and he threw them out one by one. I had been watching Armand, always fearing that his apparently restrained emotions would overwhelm him; but he kept watching, his eyes fixed and wide, like a madman, and only the trembling of his cheeks and It was only on his lips that he could see that his nerves were in a state of extreme tension. As for me, there is only one thing I can say, and that is that I regret coming here. When all the coffins were exposed, the sheriff said to the gravediggers: "Open!" These people did as if it was the easiest thing in the world. The coffin was of oak, and they began to unscrew the lid screws, which had rusted from the damp of the subterranean.After finally opening the coffin, a stench rushed in, although the coffin was surrounded by fragrant flowers and plants. "Oh, dear! dear!" murmured Armand, turning pale. Even the gravediggers backed away. A large white shroud wraps the body, the outline of which can be seen from the outside.One end of the shroud was almost completely rotting away, exposing one of the dead man's feet. I am almost fainting, and as I write these lines the scene still seems to be before me. "Let's hurry up," said the sheriff. One of the two workmen began to remove the shroud. He grabbed one end and lifted the shroud, revealing Margaret's face. That appearance is really scary to look at, and it makes people shudder to say it. There are only two holes left in a pair of eyes, the lips are rotten, the snow-white teeth are clenched tightly, the dry and long black hair sticks to the temples, sparsely covering the deeply sunken blue-gray cheek.Still, I could recognize from this one the rosy, beaming face I used to see so often. Armand stared intently at this face, biting the handkerchief he had produced. I seemed to have an iron ring on my head, my eyes were blurred, and my ears were buzzing. I could only open a bottle of smelling salts that I had with me just in case, and sniff desperately. While I was in a daze, I heard the Inspector say to M. Duval: "Did you recognize it?" "I recognize it." The young man replied hoarsely. "Then put the lid on the coffin and remove it," said the Inspector. The gravediggers threw the shroud on the dead man's face, covered the coffin, lifted the coffin one by one, and walked in the designated direction. Armand remained motionless, staring at the empty tomb; his face was as pale as the corpse we had just seen... He seemed to have turned into a stone. I knew what was going to happen when the scene was over and the pain that had sustained him eased. I approached the sheriff. "Sir," I said, pointing to Armand, "is it necessary to stay here?" "No," he said to me, "and I advised you to take him away, he doesn't seem very well." "Let's go!" so I took Armand's arm and said to him. "What?" he said, looking at me like he didn't know me. "The business is over," I went on, "you must go now, my friend, you are pale and cold, and you will be killed in such agitation." "You're right, let's go," he replied automatically, but he didn't move a step. I had to grab his arm and drag him away. He followed like a child, grunting from time to time: "Do you see those eyes?" As he said that, he turned his head, as if the hallucination was calling him. He faltered and staggered forward.His teeth were chattering, his hands were cold, and all the nerves in his body were trembling violently. I spoke to him and he didn't answer a word. The only thing he can do is let me take it with me. We found the car at the gate, just in time. As soon as he sat down in the car, the convulsions got worse, a real full-body spasm.He was afraid that I would be frightened, so he held my hand tightly and murmured: "Nothing, nothing, I just want to cry." I heard him panting, his eyes were bloodshot, but the tears were not coming. I let him smell the salt bottle I just used.When we got back to his house, we could see he was still shaking. The servant helped me to put him on the bed and lie down. I lit the fire in the room and hurried to my doctor and told him what had just happened. He came right away. Armand, flushed and stupefied, was stammering nonsense, in which only Marguerite's name was clearly audible. After the doctor had examined the patient, I asked the doctor, "How?" His physical sickness will overwhelm his mental sickness. In a month's time, perhaps, he will be cured of both."