'At this time of night？'
'Yes.'
'But how will you get there？You won't find a carriage now.'
'I'll walk.'
'But it's raining.'
'So？'
'Madame will be back，or if she's not，there'll still be time in the morning to go and see what's kept her.You'll get yourself murdered on the way.'
'There's no danger of that，my dear Nanine.I'll see you tomorrow.'
She was a good girl and went to get my coat.She helped me on with it，offered to run round and wake the widow Arnould to enquire whether it would be possible to order a carriage.But I said no.I was certain that her efforts，which might in any case come to nothing，would waste more time than it would take for me to get half way there.
Besides，I needed air，needed to tire myself physically as a way of working off the agitation which gripped me.
I took the key to the apartment in the rue d'Antin and，saying goodbye to Nanine who came with me as far as the gates，I left.
At first，I set off at a run，but the ground was wet with the recent rain，and I tired quickly.After running for half an hour，I was forced to stop.I was bathed in perspiration.I recovered my breath and went on.The night was so dark that I went in constant fear of colliding with one of the trees lining the road which，as they loomed up unexpectedly，looked like enormous ghosts bearing down on me.
I encountered one or two waggoner's carts，but soon left them behind.
A barouche passed making for Bougival at a fast trot.As it drew level with me，my hopes rose that Marguerite was inside.
I stopped and shouted：'Marguerite！Marguerite！'
But no one answered and the barouche continued on its way.I watched it go，and then set off again.
It took me two hours to get to the Barriere de l'Etoile.
The sight of Paris revived me，and I ran down the long avenue which I had walked along so often.
That night，no one was walking along it.
It was like an avenue in a dead city.
Day was just beginning to break.
When I reached the rue d'Antin，the great city was already beginning to stir before waking.
The clock of the church of Saint-Roch was striking five when I entered the building where Marguerite lived.
I flung my name at the porter，who had got enough twenty-franc tips out of me to know I was quite entitled to call on Mademoiselle Gautier at five in the morning.
In this way，I got past him unimpeded.
I could have asked him if Marguerite was at home.But he might have replied that she wasn't，and I preferred to keep my doubts for another two minutes.While there was doubt there was hope.
I listened at her door，trying to detect a sound or a movement.
But there was nothing.The silence of the country seemed to extend as far as here.
I unlocked the door and went inside.
All the curtains were tightly closed.
I drew back those in the dining-room and made for the bedroom.I pushed the door open.
I leaped on the curtain cord and pulled it savagely.
The curtains opened.A faint glimmer of light pierced the gloom and I ran over to the bed.
It was empty！
I opened all the doors one after another.I looked in all the rooms.
There was no one there.
I thought I would go out of my mind.
I went into the dressing-room，opened the window and called several times to Prudence.
Madame Duvernoy's window remained shut.
Then I went down to the porter's lodge and asked him if Mademoiselle Gautier had been to her apartment the previous day.
'Yes，'the man said，'with Madame Duvernoy.'
'She left no word for me？'
'No.'
'Do you know what they did afterwards？'
'They got into a carriage.'
'What sort of carriage？'
'A gentleman's brougham.'
What could it all mean？
I rang at the house next door.
'Who are you wanting，sir？'the porter asked as he opened the door to me.
'Madame Duvernoy.'
'She's not back.'
'Are you sure？'
'Yes，sir.There's even a letter that was delivered yesterday evening that I haven't had chance to give her.'
And the man showed me a letter at which I glanced mechanically.
I recognized Marguerite's handwriting.
I took the letter.
It was addressed like this：'To Madame Duvernoy，to be given to Monsieur Duval.'
'This letter is for me，'I told the porter，and I showed him the address.
'Are you Monsieur Duval？'the man answered.
'Yes.'
'Now I recognize you.You often come here to see Madame Duvernoy.'
As soon as I was in the street，I broke open the seal on the letter.
Had lightning struck at my feet，I would not have been more appalled than by what I read.
'By the time you read this，Armand，I shall be another man's mistress.Consequently，all is finished between us.'
Go back to your father，my dear.Go and see your sister.She's a pure young woman who knows nothing of all our miseries.With her，you will very quickly forget what you have suffered at the hands of a fallen creature named Marguerite Gautier who，for an instant，you truly loved and who stands in your debt for the only happy moments in her life which，she hopes，will not last much longer.'
When I reached the end，I thought I was going out of my mind.
For a moment，I was genuinely afraid that I would collapse on to the cobbles of the street.My eyes clouded over and the blood pulsated in my temples.
After a while，I recovered something of my composure and looked around me in astonishment as I saw other people going about their lives without pausing over my unhappiness.
I was not strong enough by myself to bear the blow which Marguerite had dealt me.
Then I recalled that my father was there in the same city as myself，that I could be with him in ten minutes and that，whatever the reason for my sorrows，he would share them.
I ran like a madman，like a thief，all the way to the Hotel de Paris.The key was in the door of my father's apartment.I let myself in.
He was reading.
Judging by the small show of surprise which he displayed when he saw me，you might have thought that he had been expecting me.
I flung myself into his arms without a word，gave him Marguerite's letter and，sliding to the floor at his bedside，wept long，bitter tears.