“Why hasn’t she answered me, if she was in love with me?” “Because she realizes she was mistaken in letting herself love you. Women sometimes allow you to be unfaithful to their love; they never allow you to wound their self-esteem; and one always wounds the self-esteem of a woman when, two days after one has become her lover, one leaves her, no matter for what reason. I know Marguerite; she would die sooner than reply.” “What can I do, then?” “Nothing. She will forget you, you will forget her, and neither will have any reproach to make against the other.” “But if I write and ask her forgiveness?” “Don’t do that, for she would forgive you.” I could have flung my arms round Prudence’s neck. A quarter of an hour later I was once more in my own quarters, and I wrote to Marguerite: “Some one, who repents of a letter that he wrote yesterday and who will leave Paris to-morrow if you do not forgive him, wishes to know at what hour he might lay his repentance at your feet. “When can he find you alone? for, you know, confessions must be made without witnesses.” I folded this kind of madrigal in prose, and sent it by Joseph, who handed it to Marguerite herself; she replied that she would send the answer later. I only went out to have a hasty dinner, and at eleven in the evening no reply had come. I made up my mind to endure it no longer, and to set out next day. In consequence of this resolution, and convinced that I should not sleep if I went to bed, I began to pack up my things. Chapter XV It was hardly an hour after Joseph and I had begun preparing for my departure, when there was a violent ring at the door. “Shall I go to the door?” said Joseph. “Go,” I said, asking myself who it could be at such an hour, and not daring to believe that it was Marguerite. “Sir,” said Joseph coming back to me, “it is two ladies.” “It is we, Armand,” cried a voice that I recognised as that of Prudence. I came out of my room. Prudence was standing looking around the place; Marguerite, seated on the sofa, was meditating. I went to her, knelt down, took her two hands, and, deeply moved, said to her, “Pardon.” She kissed me on the forehead, and said: “This is the third time that I have forgiven you.” “I should have gone away to-morrow.” “How can my visit change your plans? I have not come to hinder you from leaving Paris. I have come because I had no time to answer you during the day, and I did not wish to let you think that I was angry with you. Prudence didn’t want me to come; she said that I might be in the way.” “You in the way, Marguerite! But how?” “Well, you might have had a woman here,” said Prudence, “and it would hardly have been amusing for her to see two more arrive.” During this remark Marguerite looked at me attentively. “My dear Prudence,” I answered, “you do not know what you are saying.” “What a nice place you’ve got!” Prudence went on. “May we see the bedroom?” “Yes.”