Chapter 7 Chapter VII

There are some diseases that are straightforward and either kill a person at once or heal within a few days. Armand suffered from such diseases. Half a month after what I have just described, Armand has fully recovered, and we have become friends with each other.Throughout his illness I hardly ever left his room. Spring is here, the flowers are blooming, the birds are singing harmoniously, the window in my friend's room is joyfully opened, the window faces the garden, and the fresh air from the garden hits him. The doctor has allowed him to get up. From twelve noon to two in the afternoon when the sun is warmest, the window is open, and we often sit by the window and chat.

I have been careful not to mention Marguerite, for fear that the mention of this name will remind the patient who has settled down and recall his past sorrows; Armand, on the contrary, seems to be willing to talk about her She used to talk about her with tears in her eyes, but with a soft smile that reassured me about his health of mind. I noticed that since the last visit to the cemetery to see the scene that made him suddenly sick, his mental suffering seemed to be replaced by illness, and he thought differently about Marguerite's death.He was convinced of Margaret's death, but he felt relieved in his heart. In order to get rid of the dark image that often appeared in front of his eyes, he kept recalling the happiest moment when he was with Margaret. Willing to recall these things.

Armand had just recovered from a serious illness, his high fever had subsided, and his body was still extremely weak, so he couldn't be too excited mentally.The thriving scene of nature in spring surrounded Armand, and he couldn't help recalling those happy scenes in the past. He has been stubbornly refusing to tell his family about his critical illness, and his father was kept in the dark until he was out of danger. We sat at the window a little later than usual one evening, it was a very fine day, and the sun fell asleep in a twilight of blue and gold.Although we are in Paris, the surrounding emerald green seems to isolate us from the world. Except for the occasional rumble of street cars, there is no other sound to disturb our conversation.

"It's almost like this season, this evening, I met Marguerite." Armand said to me.He was in a reverie, and he couldn't hear me talking to him. I didn't answer anything. So he turned to me and said: "I must tell you this story; you can make a book of it, and no one will believe it, but it might be interesting to write." "Tell me again in a few days, my friend. ’” I said to him, “Your body hasn’t fully recovered yet.” "It's warm tonight, and I've eaten chicken breast," he said to me, smiling, "I don't have a fever, and we have nothing to do, so I'll tell you the story. "

①French people use chicken breast for nourishment after recuperating from habitual diseases, which is similar to the habit in our country. "Since you must speak, I will listen with all my ears." "It's a very simple story," he went on, "and I'll tell it to you in the order in which it happened, and if you want to write something about it later, you can do whatever you want." Here is what he told me, a story so vivid that I have barely changed it. Yes,— continued Armand, leaning his head on the back of the chair,—yes, it was such an evening!I spent a day in the country with my friend R. Gaston, and in the evening we returned to Paris, and being sleepy and bored, we went to the Vaudeville theater.

During one of the intermissions, we went to rest in the corridor and saw a tall woman pass by, and my friend said hello to her. "Who are you greeting?" I asked him. "Marguerite Gautier," he said to me. "She has changed so much that I can hardly recognize her," I said excitedly.Why I am excited, you will understand later. "She has been ill. It seems that the poor girl will not live long." These words are still fresh in my memory, as if I heard them yesterday. You know, my friend, that for two years now, whenever I have met this girl, I have had an indescribable feeling.

For no apparent reason, my face would turn pale and my heart would beat wildly.A friend of mine who studies the occult called this feeling "fluid affinity"; I simply believed that I was destined to love Marguerite, and I had a hunch of it. She made such an impression on me so often that several of my friends have witnessed it and laughed a lot when they knew from whom it came from. I first met her at the door of Susi's store in Bourse Square.An open carriage stood there, and a woman in white got out of it.There was a murmur of admiration as she entered the store.But I seemed to be nailed to the ground, from the time she went in until she came out, I didn't move at all.I watched her shopping in the store through the window.I could have gone in too, but I didn't dare.I don't know who this woman is, and I'm afraid she'll get angry if she guesses my purpose for entering the shop.However, at that time, I did not expect to see her in the future.

① Susi store: a famous fashion store at that time. She was elegantly dressed in a muslin gown full of lace, an Indian kerchief with gold trim and silk embroidered flowers at the corners, an Italian straw hat, and a bracelet that was A thick gold chain that was just then fashionable. She climbed into her open carriage again and drove away. A young man in the shop stood at the door, watching the elegantly dressed and beautiful female customer's car go away.I went up to him and asked him to tell me the woman's name. "She is Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier," he answered me.

I didn't dare to ask her address and left. I have had many hallucinations before, and I have forgotten them afterwards; but this time it was real, so the impression stayed in my mind.So I looked everywhere for this peerless beauty in white. A few days later, there was a grand performance at the Comic Opera, and I went.The first person I saw in the box next to the stage was Marguerite Gautier. My young companion knew her too, for he said to me by her name: "Look! This pretty girl!" Just then, Marguerite picked up the binoculars and looked in our direction. She saw my friend, smiled at him, and gestured for him to come and see her.

"I'll go and say hello to her," he said to me. "I'll be back in a minute." I couldn't help saying: "You are so happy!" "Happiness what?" "Because you can visit this woman." "Are you in love with her?" "No," I said, blushing, because I was a little overwhelmed, "but I'd love to know her." "Come with me, and I will introduce you." "Go get her permission first." "Ah! Really, you don't have to be restrained with her, come on." His remark made me very sad, and I was afraid that it would prove that Marguerite was not worthy of my affection for her.

Alphonse Carr ① said in a novel called "Smoke": One night, a man followed a very handsome woman; she had a beautiful figure and a beautiful face, which made him fall in love at first sight.To kiss this woman's hand, he felt that he had the strength to do everything, the will to conquer everything, the courage to overcome everything.The woman was afraid that her clothes would get muddy, so she lifted her skirt, revealing a charming calf, which he almost didn't dare to glance at.While he was dreaming of how to get this woman, she stopped him on a street corner and asked if he would go upstairs to her house.He turned back, crossed the street, and returned home dejectedly. ① Alphonse Carr (1808-1890): French journalist and writer. I remembered this description.At first I wanted to suffer for this woman, and I was afraid that she would accept me too quickly, that she would fall in love with me too hastily; I would rather wait for a long time and go through hardships to obtain this love.Such is the temper of us men; if we can give a little poetry to the imagination of our heads, and the fancies of the soul to take precedence over the flesh, we will be very happy. In short, if someone said to me: "You can have this woman tonight, but tomorrow you will be killed." I would accept it.If someone had said to me: "For ten louis, you can be her lover," I would have refused, and I would have cried like a child who wakes up to find the palaces and castles of his night's dreams turned into castles. For nothing. ①Louis: Gold coins formerly used by France, each worth twenty francs. But I want to know her; that's the only way to know who she is. So I said to my friend that I must ask him to ask Marguerite's permission before introducing me to her.I paced up and down the corridor by myself, thinking that she was about to see me, and I didn't know how to behave under her gaze. I try to think ahead of what I'm going to say to her. How pure and innocent love is! Not long after, my friend came down. "She's waiting for us," he told me. "Is she alone?" I asked. "There is a female companion." "Are there no men?" "No." "let's go." My friend walked towards the gate of the theater. "Well, it's not from there," I said to him. "Let's go get some preserves, which Marguerite asked me for just now." We walked into a candy shop in the aisle of the theater. I really want to buy the whole shop.While I was looking at what to buy and bag, my friend said: "One catty of candied grapes." "Did you know she loves this?" "She never eats other preserves, that's what she's famous for." "Ah!" he went on, as we came out of the shop, "do you know what kind of woman I'm going to introduce you to? Don't think I'm introducing you to a duchess, she's just a whore, a local A real whore. My dear, you don't have to restrain yourself, just say what comes to your mind." "Okay, okay," I muttered.I walked behind my friend, thinking that my enthusiasm seemed to be cooling down. Marguerite laughed out loud when I entered the box. I'd like to see her frowning. My friend introduced me to her, and Marguerite gave me a slight nod, and said: "And where are my preserves?" "here." When she was taking the preserves, she looked at me, and I lowered my eyes and blushed. She leaned over and whispered something in the ear of the woman next to her, and they both burst out laughing. Needless to say, I became their laughing stock; my embarrassment made them laugh even more.At that time I already had a mistress, she was a small family jade, gentle and affectionate.Her amorous personality and her sentimental love letters often make me laugh.From what I was feeling at this moment, I realized at last that my former attitude towards her must have caused her so much pain that for five minutes I loved her as one who has never loved any woman. Marguerite stopped talking to me as she ate candied grapes. My introducer didn't want to put me in this ridiculous situation. "Marguerite," he said, "you need not be surprised if M. Duval does not speak to you. You have so bewildered him that he does not even know what to say." "I think you asked this gentleman to accompany you because you were bored coming alone." "If that's the case," I began, "then I wouldn't have asked Ernest to come and ask your permission to introduce me to you." "It may well be a way of prolonging this ill-fated moment." Anyone who has ever been in the slightest company with girls like Marguerite knows that they love to be crazy and play tricks on anyone they meet for the first time.It was no doubt a revenge for the insults they had to endure from those who saw them every day. To deal with them, therefore, I had to use a certain habit of their inner circle, which I did not have; besides, my old opinion of Marguerite made me take her jokes too seriously. , I cannot remain indifferent to any aspect of this woman.So I stood up and said to her in a tone of barely concealed dismay: "If that is what you think of me, Madame, I can only ask you to forgive my rashness, and I am obliged to take my leave and assure you that I will never be so rash again." After speaking, I saluted and came out. No sooner had I closed the box door than I heard a third roar of laughter.At this moment, I really hope that someone will hit me. I return to my seat. At this time, the opening hammer sounded. Ernest came back to me. "What's the matter with you!" he said to me, sitting down, "they think you're crazy." "What did Marguerite say when I was gone?" "She laughed, and she said to me that she had never seen anyone as funny as you; but you mustn't think you've failed, you don't have to be so serious with these girls. They don't know manners and manners ;It's like spraying perfume on dogs, they always feel the smell is bad, they have to go to the ditch to wash it off." "Anyway, what does it have to do with me?" I said, as nonchalantly as I could, "I shall never see this woman again, if I had a crush on her before I knew her; , the situation is quite different.” "Forget it! One day I shall see you in her box, and hear that you have ruined your fortune for her. But even then I cannot blame you, she is unbred, but she is a man worth getting." my pretty mistress!" Fortunately the curtain was drawn, and my friend did not speak further.It's impossible to tell you what was on stage that day.All I can remember is that I raised my eyes from time to time to the box from which I had just hurriedly left, where there was a constant stream of new visitors. But I couldn't forget Marguerite at all, and another thought was running through my head.I don't think I should dwell on her insults and my own clumsiness.I said to myself, even if I lose everything, I want to get this girl, and occupy the position I gave up just now. Before the play was over, Marguerite and her friends left the box. Involuntarily, I also left my seat. "Are you leaving now?" Ernest asked me. "yes." "why?" At this time, he found that the box was empty. "Come on, go on," he said, "good luck to you, and all the best to you." I walked out. I heard rustling of dresses and conversation on the stairs.I stepped aside so that no one could see, and I saw two young men walking by with the two women.A boy came up to them in the columned corridor of the theatre. "Go and tell the coachman to wait for me at the door of the English Cafe," said Marguerite, "and we will walk there." A few minutes later, while wandering along the boulevard, I saw at the window of a large room in that café, Marguerite leaning against the window rail, picking off her bouquet of camellias petal by petal. petals. One of the two youths bowed his head behind her shoulder and whispered to her. I went into the nearby Golden House Café and sat in the second-floor balcony, staring intently at the window. At one o'clock in the evening Marguerite climbed into the carriage with her three friends. I too jumped into a buggy and followed her. Her car stopped in front of No. 9 rue d'Antin. Margaret got out of the car and went home alone. It may be accidental that she went home alone, but this accident makes me feel very happy. Since then, I have often met Marguerite in the theater, on the Champs-Elysées, and she has always been so happy; and I have always been so excited. However, I did not meet her anywhere for two weeks.When I met Gaston, I asked him for news of her. "The poor girl is very ill," he answered me. "What's wrong with her?" "She's got a tuberculosis, and besides, the life she's leading isn't doing her any good. She's lying in bed waiting to die." The human heart is so unpredictable; I was almost glad to hear of her condition. I went to inquire about her condition every day, but I neither asked people to write down my name, nor did I leave my business card.It was in this way that I learned that she had recovered, and later went to Parnell. As time went by, if I could not say that I gradually forgot about her, it would be that her impression on me gradually faded.I went out to travel, communicate with relatives and friends, life trivialities and daily work dilute my thoughts of her.Even when I recalled that encounter, it was only as a passing impulse of emotion.This kind of thing often happens among young and ignorant youths, and they usually laugh it off after the situation has changed. Besides, it's no big deal for me to be able to forget the past, because I haven't seen Marguerite since she left Paris, so, as I told you, when she was in the corridor of the Variety Theater Li, when she walked past me, I couldn't recognize her anymore. Although she was wearing a veil at that time, but two years ago, even though she was wearing a veil, I could recognize her at a glance, even if I guessed, I could guess her. Still, my heart pounded when I knew she was Margaret.The feelings that had gradually faded due to not seeing her for two years were rekindled in an instant when they saw her clothes.