rs. At another moment I would
recall her promises, and endeavour to convince myself that my letter was
only too gentle, and that there were not expressions forcible enough to
punish a woman who laughed at a love like mine. Then I said to myself
that I should have done better not to have written to her, but to have
gone to see her, and that then I should have had the pleasure of seeing
the tears that she would shed. Finally, I asked myself what she would
reply to me; already prepared to believe whatever excuse she made.

Joseph returned.

"Well?" I said to him.

"Sir," said he, "madame was not up, and still asleep, but as soon as she
rings the letter will be taken to her, and if there is any reply it will
be sent."

She was asleep!

Twenty times I was on the point of sending to get the letter back, but
every time I said to myself: "Perhaps she will have got it already, and
it would look as if I have repented of sending it."

As the hour at which it seemed likely that she would reply came nearer,
I regretted more and more that I had written. The clock struck, ten,
eleven, twelve. At twelve I was on the point of keeping the appointment
as if nothing had happened. In the end I could see no way out of the
circle of fire which closed upon me.

Then I began to believe, with the superstition which people have when
they are waiting, that if I went out for a little while, I should find
an answer when I got back. I went out under the pretext of going to
lunch.

Instead of lunching at the Cafe Foy, at the corner of the Boulevard, as
I usually did, I preferred to go to the Palais Royal and so pass through
the Rue d'Antin. Every time that I saw a woman at a distance, I fancied
it was Nanine bringing me an answer. I passed through the Rue d'Antin
without even coming across a commissionaire. I went to Very's in the
Palais Royal. The waiter gave me something to eat, or rather served up
to me whatever he liked, for I ate nothing. In spite of myself, my eyes
were constantly fixed on the clock. I returned home, certain that I
should find a letter from Marguerite.

The porter had received nothing, but I still hoped in my servant. He had
seen no one since I went out.

If Marguerite had been going to answer me she would have answered long
before.

Then I began to regret the terms of my letter; I should have said
absolutely nothing, and that would undoubtedly have aroused her
suspicions, for, finding that I did not keep my appoi