Prudence was right: the answer that she had brought to Marguerite had put her into a good humour. “Will you forgive me for my bad temper tonight?” she said, taking my hand. “I am ready to forgive you as often as you like.” “And you love me?” “Madly.” “In spite of my bad disposition?” “In spite of all.” “You swear it?” “Yes,” I said in a whisper. Nanine entered, carrying plates, a cold chicken, a bottle of claret, and some strawberries. “I haven’t had any punch made,” said Nanine; “claret is better for you. Isn’t it, sir?” “Certainly,” I replied, still under the excitement of Marguerite’s last words, my eyes fixed ardently upon her. “Good,” said she; “put it all on the little table, and draw it up to the bed; we will help ourselves. This is the third night you have sat up, and you must be in want of sleep. Go to bed. I don’t want anything more.” “Shall I lock the door?” “I should think so! And above all, tell them not to admit anybody before midday.” Chapter XII At five o’clock in the morning, as the light began to appear through the curtains, Marguerite said to me: “Forgive me if I send you away; but I must. The duke comes every morning; they will tell him, when he comes, that I am asleep, and perhaps he will wait until I wake.” I took Marguerite’s head in my hands; her loosened hair streamed about her; I gave her a last kiss, saying: “When shall I see you again?” “Listen,” she said; “take the little gilt key on the mantelpiece, open that door; bring me back the key and go. In the course of the day you shall have a letter, and my orders, for you know you are to obey blindly.” “Yes; but if I should already ask for something?” “What?” “Let me have that key.” “What you ask is a thing I have never done for anyone.” “Well, do it for me, for I swear to you that I don’t love you as the others have loved you.” “Well, keep it; but it only depends on me to make it useless to you, after all.” “How?” “There are bolts on the door.” “Wretch!” “I will have them taken off.” “You love, then, a little?” “I don’t know how it is, but it seems to me as if I do! Now, go; I can’t keep my eyes open.” I held her in my arms for a few seconds and then went. The streets were empty, the great city was still asleep, a sweet freshness circulated in the streets that a few hours later would be filled with the noise of men. It seemed to me as if this sleeping city belonged to me; I searched my memory for the names of those whose happiness I had once envied; and I could not recall one without finding myself the happier.