Chapter 22 Chapter 22

I feel that the train is moving too slowly, as if it is not going. I arrived at Bougival at eleven o'clock. All the windows in that house were dark, and I rang the bell, but no one answered. This is the first time I have encountered such a thing.Finally the gardener came out and I went in. Nanine came towards me with a lamp.I went into Margaret's bedroom. "Where's the wife?" "Madame has gone to Paris," Nanine answered me. "To Paris?" "Yes, sir." "When did you go?" "An hour after you left." "Has she left me nothing?"

"No." Nanine left me and went. "What doubts she might have," I thought, "maybe go to Paris to see if what I told her about going to see her father was not an excuse for a day of freedom. "Or maybe Prudence has written to her on some important business," I thought to myself when I was left alone; "but I have seen Prudence when I was in Paris, I heard nothing in my conversation that she had written to Marguerite." Suddenly I remembered that when I told Mrs. Duvernoy that Marguerite was not feeling well, she asked me: "So she won't come today?" This sentence seemed to reveal that they had an appointment, and at the same time I also remembered the embarrassment on her face when I looked at her after she said this sentence.I recalled Marguerite's tears all day long, which I later forgot because my father was very kind to me.

Thinking of this, everything that happened that day revolved around my first suspicion, which made me more and more suspicious.Everything, right down to my father's kindly attitude toward me confirmed my suspicions. Marguerite almost forced me to go to Paris, and she pretended to calm down as soon as I offered to stay with her.Am I falling for a trap?Is Margaret lying to me?Had she intended to come back in time before I should discover that she had left, but something unexpected had held her back?Why didn't she say anything to Nanine, and why didn't she write me a few words?What was the meaning of these tears, of her going away, of these mysteries?

In this empty room, I anxiously thought about the above questions.I stared at the clock on the wall, which pointed to midnight, as if to tell me that it was too late to see my mistress back again. Not so long ago, however, we made arrangements for our future life; she made a sacrifice, and I accepted it.Is she really cheating on me?Will not.I was trying to get rid of the assumptions I had just made. Perhaps the poor girl had found a buyer for her furniture, and she had gone to Paris to make inquiries.She didn't want me to know about it, because she knew that, although the auction was necessary to our future happiness and I agreed to it, it was always embarrassing to me.She was afraid she would hurt my pride and my feelings if she told me about it.She would rather wait until everything is settled before meeting me.It was evident that Prudence had been waiting for her for this, and had revealed the truth to me.Marguerite probably won't be able to complete this transaction today, she is sleeping at Prudence's house, maybe she will be back soon, because she should think that I am worried, and she will definitely not leave me here like this .

But why was she weeping?No doubt, however much she loved me, the poor girl would not be willing to give up this luxury.She was used to this kind of life, and felt very happy, and others envied her. I am very sympathetic to Marguerite's nostalgia.I waited anxiously for her return, to kiss her well, and to tell her that I had guessed the reason for her mysterious departure. However, it was late at night, and Margaret still didn't come back. I felt more and more anxious and nervous.Could something happen to her!Was she injured, sick, dead!Perhaps I shall soon see a messenger bring me some bad news, and perhaps till morning I shall still be in the same doubts and anxieties.

Marguerite's departure made me panic, and I waited for her with fear, whether she would deceive me?I never had this thought again.Something beyond her control must have held her back from coming to me.The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that the cause could only be some kind of misfortune.O human vanity!You have so many forms of expression. One o'clock had just struck, and I thought to myself that I would wait for her another hour, and if Marguerite had not returned by two o'clock, I would start for Paris. While waiting, I found a book to read because I didn't dare to think about it.

"Manon Lescaut" was open on the table, and it seemed to me that in places the pages were wet with tears.After flipping through it for a while, I closed the book again. Because of my misgivings, the letters in the book seemed meaningless to me. As time passed, the sky was covered with dark clouds, an autumn rain beat against the windows, and sometimes the empty bed looked like a tomb, and I was afraid. I opened the door and listened, but could hear nothing but the rustling of the wind in the woods.There was no traffic on the road, and the church clock struck half o'clock mournfully.

Rather, I was afraid of someone coming, and I felt that at this hour, in this gloomy weather, it would never be a good thing if something came to me. Two o'clock struck, and I waited for a while, broken only by the monotonous ticking of the clock on the wall. At last I left the room, which seemed to me to cast a cloud of gloom on even the tiniest objects in it, with the solitude and uneasiness of my heart. In the next room I saw Nanine falling asleep on top of her work.She awoke with a start at the sound of the door knocking, and asked me if her mistress had returned. "No, but if she comes back, tell her that I am really worried and have gone to Paris."

"Are we leaving now?" "yes." "But how to get there, the car can't be called." "I'm walking." "But it's raining!" "What does that matter?" "The madam will be back, and even if she doesn't come back, it won't be too late to see her after daylight. You will be murdered if you walk on the road like this." "There is no danger, my dear Nanine, see you tomorrow." This honest girl found my coat, threw it over my shoulders, and advised me to wake up Madam Arnoux, and ask her if I could find a carriage; but I refused to let her, convinced that it would be useless. It took me a lot of energy, and it took me longer than halfway to drive.

Besides, I was in need of fresh air and physical fatigue.This kind of physical fatigue can ease my present over-stretched mood. I took the keys to the house in the Rue d'Antin, and Nanine accompanied me to the gate of the iron bars, and I said good-bye to her and went away. At first I was running, because the ground had just been wet from the rain and the mud was difficult to walk on, so I felt extremely tired.After running like this for half an hour, I was so soaked that I had to stop.I rested for a while and continued on my way. The night was so dark that I couldn't see my fingers. I was always afraid of bumping into the trees on the side of the road. These trees suddenly appeared in front of my eyes, like some tall trees coming straight towards me. the devil.

I bumped into a van or two, and I quickly left them behind. As a carriage was galloping towards Bougival, and as it passed in front of me, a hope suddenly appeared in my heart: Marguerite was in this carriage. I stopped and called, "Margaret! Margaret!" But no one answered me, the carriage continued on its way, I watched it gradually go away, and I continued to move forward. I walked for two hours to the gate at the Etoile. ① Star-shaped square: the square around the Arc de Triomphe. The sight of Paris gave me strength again, and I ran down the long ramp that I had walked so many times. There was not even a pedestrian on the road that night. It was as if I were walking in a dead city. It was getting brighter. By the time I arrived in the Rue d'Antin, the great city was already squirming, about to wake up. When I entered Marguerite's house, the big clock of St. Roch's Church was striking five o'clock. I told the porter my name, who had previously taken from me several gold pieces worth twenty francs each, and knew that I had a right to be at Mademoiselle Gautier's at five o'clock in the morning. So I got in without a hitch. I could have asked him if Marguerite was at home, but he would probably have given me a negative answer, and I would have preferred to spend a few more minutes in suspicion, because there is always a glimmer of hope in times of doubt. I put my ears on the door, trying to hear a little sound, to hear a little movement. There was no sound, it was as quiet as in the countryside. I opened the door and walked in. All the curtains are tightly closed. I drew the curtains of the dining room, went to the bedroom, and opened the bedroom door.I jumped up to the curtain rope and pulled hard. The curtains were drawn, and a faint daylight came in, and I rushed to the bed. The bed was empty! I opened the doors one by one, and surveyed all the rooms. Not a single person. I'm almost going crazy. I went into the dressing room, opened the window and called Prudence repeatedly. Madame Duvernoy's window was kept closed. So I went down to ask the porter, and I asked him if Mademoiselle Gautier had been there during the day. "I have been here," replied the man, "with Madame Duvernoy." "Has she left me nothing?" "No." "Do you know what they did afterwards?" "They drove away again in the carriage." "What kind of carriage." "A private carriage." What is going on in all this? I rang the doorbell of the house next door. "Which house are you looking for, sir?" asked the porter, opening the door. "To Madame Duvernoy's." "She hasn't come back yet." "Are you sure?" "Yes, sir. Here is a letter from her. It was delivered last night. I haven't given it to her yet." The porter showed me a letter, and I glanced mechanically at it. I recognized Margaret's handwriting. I have the letter. On the envelope it read: Mrs. Duvernois please pass it on to Mr. Duvernois. "This letter is for me," I said to the porter, and I showed him the writing on the envelope. "Are you Mr. Duval?" the man asked me. "yes." "Ah! I know you. You often come to Madame Duvernoy's." Once on the street, I opened the letter. Even if a thunderclap had sounded beneath my feet, I would not have been more terrified than the reading of this letter. By the time you read this letter, Armand, I am already someone else's mistress, and everything is over between us. Go back to your father, my friend, and your sister, she is a pure girl, she does not understand our misery.By the side of your sister, you will soon forget the pain you have suffered from that fallen girl who was called Marguerite Gautier.She once enjoyed your love, the only happy moment in this girl's life was given to her by you, and she now wishes her life to end as soon as possible. When I got to the last sentence, I felt like I was going out of my mind. For a moment I was terrified of falling down in the street.There was a cloud in front of my eyes, and the hot blood was throbbing in my temples. Then I got a little sober, and I looked around, and it was so strange to see that other people didn't care about my misfortune, and went about their lives as usual. I alone could not bear the blow that Margaret gave me. Then it occurred to me that my father was in the same city as me, that in ten minutes I would be at his side, and that he would share my pain, whatever the cause of it. I ran like a madman, like a thief, until I reached the Hotel de Paris, and seeing the key in the door of my father's room, I opened it and went in. He is reading. He was not very surprised to see me appear in front of him, as if he was waiting for me. Without saying a word, I fell into his arms, handed him Marguerite's letter, and let myself fall beside his bed, weeping with tears.