camille-第43章

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I　wanted　to　use　my　last　resources　to　put　a　stop　to　it；　but　the　bailiff　told　me　it　was　no　use；　and　that　there　are　other　seizures　to　follow。　Since　she　must　die；　it　is　better　to　let　everything　go　than　to　save　it　for　her　family；　whom　she　has　never　cared　to　see；　and　who　have　never　cared　for　her。　You　can　not　conceive　in　the　midst　of　what　gilded　misery　the　poor　thing　is　dying。　Yesterday　we　had　absolutely　no　money。　Plate；　jewels；　shawls；　everything　is　in　pawn；　the　rest　is　sold　or　seized。　Marguerite　is　still　conscious　of　what　goes　on　around　her；　and　she　suffers　in　body；　mind；　and　heart。　Big　tears　trickle　down　her　cheeks；　so　thin　and　pale　that　you　would　never　recognise　the　face　of　her　whom　you　loved　so　much；　if　you　could　see　her。　She　has　made　me　promise　to　write　to　you　when　she　can　no　longer　write；　and　I　write　before　her。　She　turns　her　eyes　toward　me；　but　she　no　longer　sees　me；　her　eyes　are　already　veiled　by　the　coming　of　death；　yet　she　smiles；　and　all　her　thoughts；　all　her　soul　are　yours；　I　am　sure。

Every　time　the　door　opens　her　eyes　brighten；　and　she　thinks　you　are　going　to　come　in；　then；　when　she　sees　that　it　is　not　you；　her　face　resumes　its　sorrowful　expression；　a　cold　sweat　breaks　out　over　it；　and　her　cheek…bones　flush。

February　19；　midnight。

What　a　sad　day　we　have　had　to…day；　poor　M。　Armand！　This　morning　Marguerite　was　stifling；　the　doctor　bled　her；　and　her　voice　has　returned　to　her　a　while。　The　doctor　begged　her　to　see　a　priest。　She　said　〃Yes；〃　and　he　went　himself　to　fetch　an　abbe'　from　Saint　Roch。

Meanwhile　Marguerite　called　me　up　to　her　bed；　asked　me　to　open　a　cupboard；　and　pointed　out　a　cap　and　a　long　chemise　covered　with　lace；　and　said　in　a　feeble　voice：

〃I　shall　die　as　soon　as　I　have　confessed。　Then　you　will　dress　me　in　these　things；　it　is　the　whim　of　a　dying　woman。？

Then　she　embraced　me　with　tears　and　added：

〃I　can　speak；　but　I　am　stifled　when　I　speak；　I　am　stifling。　Air！〃

I　burst　into　tears；　opened　the　window；　and　a　few　minutes　afterward　the　priest　entered。　I　went　up　to　him；　when　he　knew　where　he　was；　he　seemed　afraid　of　being　badly　received。

〃Come　in　boldly；　father；〃　I　said　to　him。

He　stayed　a　very　short　time　in　the　room；　and　when　he　came　out　he　said　to　me：

〃She　lived　a　sinner；　and　she　will　die　a　Christian。〃

A　few　minutes　afterward　he　returned　with　a　choir　boy　bearing　a　crucifix；　and　a　sacristan　who　went　before　them　ringing　the　bell　to　announce　that　God　was　coming　to　the　dying　one。

They　went　all　three　into　the　bed…room　where　so　many　strange　words　have　been　said；　but　was　now　a　sort　of　holy　tabernacle。

I　fell　on　my　knees。　I　do　not　know　how　long　the　impression　of　what　I　saw　will　last；　but　I　do　not　think　that；　till　my　turn　comes；　any　human　thing　can　make　so　deep　an　impression　on　me。

The　priest　anointed　with　holy　oil　the　feet　and　hands　and　forehead　of　the　dying　woman；　repeated　a　short　prayer；　and　Marguerite　was　ready　to　set　out　for　the　heaven　to　which　I　doubt　not　she　will　go；　if　God　has　seen　the　ordeal　of　her　life　and　the　sanctity　of　her　death。

Since　then　she　has　not　said　a　word　or　made　a　movement。　Twenty　times　I　should　have　thought　her　dead　if　I　had　not　heard　her　breathing　painfully。

February　20；　5　P。M。

All　is　over。

Marguerite　fell　into　her　last　agony　at　about　two　o'clock。　Never　did　a　martyr　suffer　such　torture；　to　judge　by　the　cries　she　uttered。　Two　or　three　times　she　sat　upright　in　the　bed；　as　if　she　would　hold　on　to　her　life；　which　was　escaping　toward　God。

Two　or　three　times　also　she　said　your　name；　then　all　was　silent；　and　she　fell　back　on　the　bed　exhausted。　Silent　tears　flowed　from　her　eyes；　and　she　was　dead。

Then　I　went　up　to　her；　I　called　her；　and　as　she　did　not　answer　I　closed　her　eyes　and　kissed　her　on　the　forehead。

Poor；　dear　Marguerite；　I　wish　I　were　a　holy　woman　that　my　kiss　might　recommend　you　to　God。

Then　I　dressed　her　as　she　had　asked　me　to　do。　I　went　to　find　a　priest　at　Saint　Roch；　I　burned　two　candles　for　her；　and　I　prayed　in　the　church　for　an　hour。

I　gave　the　money　she　left　to　the　poor。

I　do　not　know　much　about　religion；　but　I　think　that　God　will　know　that　my　tears　were　genuine；　my　prayers　fervent；　my　alms…giving　sincere；　and　that　he　will　have　pity　on　her　who；　dying　young　and　beautiful；　has　only　had　me　to　close　her　eyes　and　put　her　in　her　shroud。

February　22。

The　burial　took　place　to…day。　Many　of　Marguerite's　friends　came　to　the　church。　Some　of　them　wept　with　sincerity。　When　the　funeral　started　on　the　way　to　Montmartre　only　two　men　followed　it：　the　Comte　de　G。；　who　came　from　London　on　purpose；　and　the　duke；　who　was　supported　by　two　footmen。

I　write　you　these　details　from　her　house；　in　the　midst　of　my　tears　and　under　the　lamp　which　burns　sadly　beside　a　dinner　which　I　can　not　touch；　as　you　can　imagine；　but　which　Nanine　has　got　for　me；　for　I　have　eaten　nothing　for　twenty…four　hours。

My　life　can　not　retain　these　sad　impressions　for　long；　for　my　life　is　not　my　own　any　more　than　Marguerite's　was　hers；　that　is　why　I　give　you　all　these　details　on　the　very　spot　where　they　occurred；　in　the　fear；　if　a　long　time　elapsed　between　them　and　your　return；　that　I　might　not　be　able　to　give　them　to　you　with　all　their　melancholy　exactitude。



Chapter　27

〃You　have　read　it？〃　said　Armand；　when　I　had　finished　the　manuscript。

〃I　understand　what　you　must　have　suffered；　my　friend；　if　all　that　I　read　is　true。〃

〃My　father　confirmed　it　in　a　letter。〃

We　talked　for　some　time　over　the　sad　destiny　which　had　been　accomplished；　and　I　went　home　to　rest　a　little。

Armand；　still　sad；　but　a　little　relieved　by　the　narration　of　his　story；　soon　recovered；　and　we　went　together　to　pay　a　visit　to　Prudence　and　to　Julie　Duprat。

Prudence　had　become　bankrupt。　She　told　us　that　Marguerite　was　the　cause　of　it；　that　during　her　illness　she　had　lent　her　a　lot　of　money　in　the　form　of　promissory　notes；　which　she　could　not　pay；　Marguerite　having　died　without　having　returned　her　the　money；　and　without　having　given　her　a　receipt　with　which　she　could　present　herself　as　a　creditor。

By　the　help　of　this　fable；　which　Mme。　Duvernoy　repeated　everywhere　in　order　to　account　for　her　money　difficulties；　she　extracted　a　note　for　a　thousand　francs　from　Armand；　who　did　not　believe　it；　but　who　pretended　to；　out　of　respect　for　all　those　in　whose　company　Marguerite　had　lived。

Then　we　called　on　Julie　Duprat；　who　told　us　the　sad　incident　which　she　had　witnessed；　shedding　real　tears　at　the　remembrance　of　her　friend。

Lastly；　we　went　to　Marguerite's　grave；　on　which　the　first　rays　of　the　April　sun　were　bringing　the　first　leaves　into　bud。

One　duty　remained　to　Armandto　return　to　his　father。　He　wished　me　to　accompany　him。

We　arrived　at　C。；　where　I　saw　M。　Duval；　such　as　I　had　imagined　him　from　the　portrait　his　son　had　made　of　him；　tall；　dignified；　kindly。

He　welcomed　Armand　with　tears　of　joy；　and　clasped　my　hand　affectionately。　I　was　not　long　in　seeing　that　the　paternal　sentiment　was　that　which　dominated　all　others　in　his　mind。

His　daughter；　named　Blanche；　had　that　transparence　of　eyes；　that　serenity　of　the　mouth；　which　indicates　a　soul　that　conceives　only　holy　thoughts　and　lips　that　repeat　only　pious　words。　She　welcomed　her　brother's　return　with　smiles；　not　knowing；　in　the　purity　of　her　youth；　that　far　away　a　courtesan　had　sacrificed　her　own　happiness　at　the　mere　invocation　of　her　name。

I　remained　for　some　time　in　their　happy　family；　full　of　indulgent　care　for　one　who　brought　them　the　convalescence　of　his　heart。

I　returned　to　Paris；　where　I　wrote　this　story　just　as　it　had　been　told　me。　It　has　only　one　merit；　which　will　perhaps　be　denied　it；　that　is；　that　it　is　true。

I　do　not　draw　from　this　story　the　conclusion　that　all　women　like　Marguerite　are　capable　of　doing　all　that　she　didfar　from　it；　but　I　have　discovered　that　one　of　them　experienced　a　serious　love　in　the　course　of　her　life；　that　she　suffered　for　it；　and　that　she　died　of　it。　I　have　told　the　reader　all　that　I　learned。　It　was　my　duty。

I　am　not　the　apostle　of　vice；　but　I　would　gladly　be　the　echo　of　noble　sorrow　wherever　I　bear　its　voice　in　prayer。

The　story　of　Marguerite　is　an　exception；　I　repeat；　had　it　not　been　an　exception；　it　would　not　have　been　worth　the　trouble　of　writing　it。　







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