"Pardon, pardon," I murmured. "I understood it all, but I wanted to
have it from your own lips, my beloved Marguerite. Forget the rest and
remember only one thing: that we belong to one another, that we are
young, and that we love. Marguerite, do with me as you will; I am your
slave, your dog, but in the name of heaven tear up the letter which I
wrote to you and do not make me leave you to-morrow; it would kill me."
Marguerite drew the letter from her bosom, and handing it to me with a
smile of infinite sweetness, said: "Here it is. I have brought it back."
I tore the letter into fragments and kissed with tears the hand that
gave it to me.
At this moment Prudence reappeared.
"Look here, Prudence; do you know what he wants?" said Marguerite.
"He wants you to forgive him."
"Precisely."
"And you do?"
"One has to; but he wants more than that."
"What, then?"
"He wants to have supper with us."
"And do you consent?"
"What do you think?"
"I think that you are two children who haven't an atom of sense between
you; but I also think that I am very hungry, and that the sooner you
consent the sooner we shall have supper."
"Come," said Marguerite, "there is room for the three of us in my
carriage."
"By the way," she added, turning to me, "Nanine will be gone to bed. You
must open the door; take my key, and try not to lose it again."
I embraced Marguerite until she was almost stifled.
Thereupon Joseph entered.
"Sir," he said, with the air of a man who is very well satisfied with
himself, "the luggage is packed."
"All of it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, then, unpack it again; I am not going."