Chapter 18 Chapter Eighteen

It is not easy to tell you in detail the details of our new life.This kind of life is some childish frolic to us, very interesting to us, but not worth mentioning to the person who listens to my story.You know what it is to love a woman, you know how the days pass by, and how the evenings are so inseparable.You cannot fail to know that passionate love, shared and trusted, can leave everything behind; in this world, nothing but the woman one loves seems superfluous.I was regretting the time I had spent on other women; I saw no possibility of shaking another's hand than my own.I neither think nor recall in my head, but only one idea, and I cannot accept any thought that may affect this idea.Every day I discover in my mistress a new fascination and a pleasure I never had before.

Life is nothing but the gratification of incessant desires, and the soul is nothing but the hearth who keeps the flame of love alive. ① ①The virgin who held the holy fire and guarded day and night in the Temple of Vesta in Rome. In the evening, we often sat in the woods overlooking our house, listening to the harmony of the night, while we both thought about how soon we would be hugging each other until tomorrow.Sometimes we sleep in bed all day without even letting the sunlight into the room.The curtains are closed tightly, and the outside world has temporarily stopped activities for us.Only Nanine had the right to open our door, but only to bring us something to eat; we ate it in bed, laughing and playing nonstop.Then dozed off again for a while.We were like two obstinate divers submerged in love, only to surface when we took a breath.

However, Marguerite sometimes looked very sad, and on several occasions she even shed tears, which surprised me.I asked her why she was suddenly so sad, and she replied: "Our love is no ordinary love, my dear Armand. You love me as if I had never lost myself to anyone else, but I am terribly afraid that you will soon regret your love and regard my past as Sin. I'm afraid you're forcing me to go back to the old karma you've let me out of. Think of the new life I'm tasting now. Ask me to go back to the old life and I'll die. Tell me you'll never again leave me."

"I swear to you!" Hearing this sentence, she looked at me carefully, as if she wanted to see from my eyes whether my oath was sincere, then she threw herself into my arms, buried her head in my heart, and said to me: "You don't know how much I love you!" One evening, we were leaning on the railing of the window sill, gazing at the moon hidden by floating clouds, listening to the rustling of the trees swayed by the gust of wind, we held hands and were silent for a while, when suddenly Marguerite said to me : "Winter is coming, let's get out of here, okay?"

"Where to go?" "To Italy." "So you're tired of being here?" "I'm afraid of winter, and I'm still more afraid of going back to Paris." "why?" "There are many reasons." She did not tell me the reason for her fear, but went on suddenly: "Would you like to leave here? I'll sell everything I own and live there together without leaving any trace of my past. No one will know who I am. Will you?" "Margaret, if you like, let's go, let's go on a trip," I said to her, "but what's the need to sell things? Aren't you glad to see them when you come back? I didn't Enough property to accept this sacrifice of yours, but I have more than enough money for a respectable trip of five or six months, if it pleases you even a little bit."

"Better not to go," she continued, leaving the window, going and sitting on the divan in the shade of the room. "What's the point of spending money there? I've already cost you quite a bit here. " "You're blaming me, Marguerite, and that's not fair!" "Forgive me, my friend," she said, holding out her hand to me, "this stormy weather has made me uneasy; and I did not speak what was in my heart." She kissed me as she spoke, and then fell into thought again. Situations like this have happened several times, and although I don't know the reason for her having these thoughts, it is clear to me that Margaret is worried about the future.She will not doubt my love, because I love her more and more.But I have often seen her worried, and she never told me the reason for her worry, except to excuse her poor health.

I was afraid that she would be tired of this too monotonous life, so I suggested that she go back to Paris, but she always refused, and kept telling me that no place could make her feel happier than the country. Prudence did not come very often now, but she often wrote, and though Marguerite was troubled when they received them, I never asked to see them, and I could not guess their contents. One day Marguerite was in her room and I went in and she was writing a letter. "Who do you write to?" I asked her. "To Prudence, would you like me to tell you my convictions?"

I abhorred everything that looked like suspicion, so I replied to Marguerite that I did not need to know what she wrote, but I was sure that this letter would tell me the real cause of her distress. The next day, the weather was very fine, and Marguerite proposed to take a boat to Croissy Island, and she seemed very happy.It was five o'clock when we got home. "Mrs. Duvernoy is here," Nanine said when she saw us coming in. "Has she gone?" asked Margaret. "Let's go, take Madam's car, she said it was agreed." "Very well," said Margaret eagerly, "order to go down and serve us dinner."

Two days later a letter came from Prudence, and during the next fortnight Marguerite ceased to be so inexplicably anxious, and continued to ask me to forgive her for it. But the carriage did not come back. "Why didn't Prudence send back your carriage?" I asked one day. "One of the two horses is sick, and the carriage has to be repaired. Anyway, there is no need for a carriage here, and wouldn't it be nice to have it fixed before we get back to Paris?" A few days later, Prudence came to visit us, and she confirmed to me what Marguerite had told me. Two women were walking in the garden, and when I approached them they broke the conversation.

When Prudence left in the evening, complaining of the cold, she asked Marguerite to lend her her cashmere shawl. In this way a month passed, during which Marguerite was happier and loved me more than ever before. But the carriage never returned, nor the shawl.All these things made me suspicious.I knew the drawer in which Marguerite kept Prudence's letters, and I ran to it while she was in the garden.I tried to open it, but I couldn't, the drawer was locked tightly. Then I searched the drawers where she usually kept her jewels and diamonds, and they opened in a flash, but the jewelry box was gone, and needless to say, the contents of the box were gone.

A wave of fear suddenly hit my heart. I wanted to ask Margaret where it all went, but she wouldn't tell me the truth. "My dear Marguerite," I said to her, "I have come to ask your permission to go to Paris once. My family does not yet know where I am, and it is time for a letter from my father, who must be there." Missing me, I must write him a reply." "Go, my friend," she said to me, "but come back early." I'm leaving. I ran immediately to Prudence's house. "Ah," I said to her straight to the point, "tell me the truth, where is Marguerite's carriage?" "Sold." "What about the shawl?" "Sold." "Where are the diamonds?" "Pawned." "Who sold it for her? Who pawned it for her?" "it's me." "why did not you tell me." "Because Marguerite forbade me to tell you." "Then why don't you ask me for money?" "Because she didn't want to." "Then what is the money for?" "Pay the bill." "Does she still owe a lot of money?" "About thirty thousand francs are still owed. Oh! My dear, did I not tell you? You refused to believe me, so you must believe me now. The rug dealer, who was on the duke's bond, went to The duke was shut down, and the next day the duke wrote to tell him that he didn't care about Mademoiselle Gautier. The merchant came to ask for money, so he had to pay him in installments, and the thousands of francs I asked you are for. His. Then some well-meaning people reminded him that his debtor had been abandoned by the Duke, and that she was living with a young man without property; Marguerite wanted to sell everything, but there was no time, and I objected to her doing so. The debt must be paid, and in order not to ask you for money, she sold the horse and the cashmere shawl. , pawned the jewellery. Would you like to see the buyer's receipt and the pawnbroker's note?" Prudence then opened a drawer and showed me the bills. "Ah! You believe it!" she went on, with the self-satisfied tone of a woman who has the right to say "I'm right." "Ah! Do you think it's enough to love each other? Is it enough to go down and live that kind of dreamlike pastoral life? No, my friend, no. Besides this ideal life, there is also material life. The purest determination will have some vulgar, but iron-cast The chains that fasten it to this ground are not easy to break. If Marguerite never deceives you, it is because of her character. I was not wrong to persuade her, because I can't bear to see a poor girl eat all of it. She won't listen to me! She replied that she loves you and will never lie to you. It's so beautiful and poetic, but it's not money Come to pay the creditor. I tell you again, she can't get through the door without thirty thousand francs." "Okay, I'll pay the money." "Are you going to borrow it?" "Yeah, God." "You're going to do something good, you're going to have a quarrel with your father, he'll cut you off, and thirty thousand francs can't be planned in a day or two. Believe me, dear Armand, I You know a lot more about women than you do. Don't do such a foolish thing, you'll regret it one day. Be sensible. I'm not telling you to break up with Margaret, but live with her as you did when the summer began. .Let her try to get out of the predicament by herself. The Duke will come to her slowly. Count N. was still telling me yesterday that if Marguerite would receive him, he would pay off all her debts for her, monthly Give her another four or five thousand francs. He has a pension of two hundred thousand livres. That's a sure thing for her, and you, you're going to leave her sooner or later; don't wait until you're bankrupt, Besides, the Comte de N is a fool, and you can go on being Marguerite's lover. She will be sad for a while at first, but she will get used to it in the end, and she will thank you one day if you did. You take Marguerite for a married woman, and you cheat her husband, that's all. "I've told you all this already, when it was only a piece of advice, and now it's almost obligatory." What Prudence said was harsh, but very reasonable. "That's the thing," she went on, putting away the bills she had just shown me, "whores wait for someone to love them, and they never will; Save money so that when they are thirty they can pay for the luxury of a lover who has nothing. If only I had known what it would be like today, me! In short, don't tell Marguerite anything. Say, bring her back to Paris. You have been with her for four or five months, and that is good enough; eyes open, that is what is required of you. In a fortnight she will receive the Comte de N. .She saves a little this winter, and next summer you can live like that again. That's how it works, my dear." Prudence seemed pleased with her own advice, but I rebuffed it angrily. Not only was my love and my dignity not allowed me to do so, but I was convinced that Margaret would rather die than live the life she had been able to live. "Don't be joking," I said to Prudence, "how much money does Marguerite need?" "I told you about thirty thousand francs." "When will the money be asked for?" "Within two months." "She will." Prudence shrugged her shoulders. "I will give it to you," I went on, "but you will swear not to tell Marguerite that I gave it to you." "Relax." "If she asks you to sell or pawn anything again, you can tell me." "Don't worry, she has nothing left." I went home first to see if there was a letter from my father. There are four.