I exact that Laurence shall be mine. I have only her in the whole world, and I cling to her as a miser clings to his beloved gold. My heart bleeds when I think that, perhaps, Pâquerette is right, and that to-morrow I shall be shorn of love. I do not wish to remain all alone in my poverty, in the depths of my abjection. I am afraid. And, nevertheless, I cannot close my eyes to the terrible reality, I cannot live in ignorance. Certain young men, when they feel that a woman is necessary to them, accept her such as she is; they do not care to risk their peace of mind by probing into her past life. So far as I am concerned, I realize that I have not sufficient strength to ignore anything. I doubt. My unfortunate mind urges me to disabuse or convince myself; I must know everything about Laurence, that I may die if she has resolved to abandon me. In the evening, I pretend to go out for a walk, and slip furtively into Marie's apartment. Pâquerette is dozing; the dying girl smiles feebly upon me, without turning her head. I go to the window and there establish myself. From the window I keep a close watch, leaning out to see into the courtyard and into Jacques' chamber. Sometimes, I partly open the door and listen to the sounds on the stairway. These are cruel hours. My excited mind toils laboriously, my limbs tremble with anxiety and prolonged attention. When voices ascend from Jacques' chamber, emotion stops up my throat. If I hear Laurence leave our mansarde and she does not appear upon the threshold below, a burning sensation shoots through my breast: I have counted the steps, and I say to myself that she has stopped on the fourth floor. Then, I lean over into the courtyard at the risk of falling; I long to climb in through that window which opens five mètres below me. I imagine I hear the sound of kisses, I think I catch my name uttered amid mocking laughter. Then, when Laurence at last shows herself upon the threshold, in the courtyard, the burning sensation shoots through me again. I remain leaning out of the window, panting, broken. She surprises me, for I did not expect to see her. I commence to doubt: I no longer know if I correctly counted the steps she had to descend.