I remained a long time with Marguerite. Our conversation was delightfully intimate. She asked me about my family, about my father. For awhile I was very much saddened by such unaccustomed thoughts. I confessed everything to her, my ingratitude and indifference to his memory. Then Marguerite could not restrain her tears, and said to me: "You believe, though, in the eternal duration of other affections, since you dare to ask for my love." I was so intensely happy that I succeeded in reassuring her as to the future, and when her melancholy mood had passed she spoke with ineffable and almost maternal tenderness of my projects, of her annoyance at seeing me lead such a barren and idle life, whose uselessness she believed to be the source of all my unhappiness. I replied that at the present hour her reproaches were without foundation, and that she should no longer think of me as idle or unhappy, for, as I was to spend my time in worshipping her, I would be the happiest and best occupied of men. And as to all this I added a thousand lively speeches, Marguerite took my hand, and said, with an inexpressible look of goodness, love, and kind reproach in her lovely eyes, which were filled with tears: "You are very gay, Arthur!" "That is because I am so happy, so supremely happy." "It is strange," said she. "I, too, am happy, completely happy. And yet you see I am weeping. I have to weep." Then we talked of signs and omens, and, finally, of divination and fortune-tellers. As we were wont to do, we discussed the worn out theme, Is there such a thing as foretelling the future? We ended by coming to the decision that to-morrow we would meet at Mlle. Lenormand's in the Rue de Tournon, and have our fortunes told. I left Marguerite's at half-past six. She forbade me to come again in the evening, as she said she wished to spend it in writing letters. When I was alone, and only influenced by my own thoughts, I was more than ever surprised at the great difference between the impressions of men and those of women. After such a morning of sensual intoxication, Marguerite needed silence, reverie, and solitude, while I felt a positive want of noise, excitement, and animation. Though intense, my happiness was exuberant. I felt gay, talkative, amiable, perfectly contented with everything. In such a mood the gay world, with all its joy and splendour, was the only place to display my felicity. Before going to one or two soirées, I went to the theatre to hear the second act of "Othello." I saw Madame de V---- alone in her box. She looked, as she always does, charming and exquisitely dressed. There is nothing prettier ever seen than a beautiful, smiling woman's face, standing out in brilliant light, against the dark background of an opera box.