Camille (La Dame aux Camilias)

The porter had received nothing, but I still hoped in my servant. He had

seen no one since I went out.

If Marguerite had been going to answer me she would have answered long

before.

Then I began to regret the terms of my letter; I should have said

absolutely nothing, and that would undoubtedly have aroused her

suspicions, for, finding that I did not keep my appointment, she would

have inquired the reason of my absence, and only then I should have

given it to her. Thus, she would have had to exculpate herself, and what

I wanted was for her to exculpate herself. I already realized that I

should have believed whatever reasons she had given me, and anything was

better than not to see her again.

At last I began to believe that she would come to see me herself; but

hour followed hour, and she did not come.

Decidedly Marguerite was not like other women, for there are few

who would have received such a letter as I had just written without

answering it at all.

At five, I hastened to the Champs-Elysees. "If I meet her," I thought,

"I will put on an indifferent air, and she will be convinced that I no

longer think about her."

As I turned the corner of the Rue Royale, I saw her pass in her

carriage. The meeting was so sudden that I turned pale. I do not know if

she saw my emotion; as for me, I was so agitated that I saw nothing but

the carriage.

I did not go any farther in the direction of the Champs-Elysees. I

looked at the advertisements of the theatres, for I had still a chance

of seeing her. There was a first night at the Palais Royal. Marguerite

was sure to be there. I was at the theatre by seven. The boxes filled

one after another, but Marguerite was not there. I left the Palais Royal

and went to all the theatres where she was most often to be seen: to the

Vaudeville, the Varietes, the Opera Comique. She was nowhere.

Either my letter had troubled her too much for her to care to go to

the theatre, or she feared to come across me, and so wished to avoid an

explanation. So my vanity was whispering to me on the boulevards, when I

met Gaston, who asked me where I had been.

"At the Palais Royal."

"And I at the Opera," said he; "I expected to see you there."

"Why?"

"Because Marguerite was there."