La dame aux camélias (Novel). English

by Alexandre Dumas

  Chapter 11

  At this point Armand stopped.

  "Would you close the window for me?" he said. "I am beginning to feelcold. Meanwhile, I will get into bed."

  I closed the window. Armand, who was still very weak, took off hisdressing-gown and lay down in bed, resting his head for a few momentson the pillow, like a man who is tired by much talking or disturbed bypainful memories.

  "Perhaps you have been talking too much," I said to him. "Would yourather for me to go and leave you to sleep? You can tell me the rest ofthe story another day."

  "Are you tired of listening to it?"

  "Quite the contrary."

  "Then I will go on. If you left me alone, I should not sleep."

  When I returned home (he continued, without needing to pause andrecollect himself, so fresh were all the details in his mind), I did notgo to bed, but began to reflect over the day's adventure. The meeting,the introduction, the promise of Marguerite, had followed one another sorapidly, and so unexpectedly, that there were moments when it seemed tome I had been dreaming. Nevertheless, it was not the first time that agirl like Marguerite had promised herself to a man on the morrow of theday on which he had asked for the promise.

  Though, indeed, I made this reflection, the first impression producedon me by my future mistress was so strong that it still persisted. Irefused obstinately to see in her a woman like other women, and, withthe vanity so common to all men, I was ready to believe that she couldnot but share the attraction which drew me to her.

  Yet, I had before me plenty of instances to the contrary, and I hadoften heard that the affection of Marguerite was a thing to be had moreor less dear, according to the season.

  But, on the other hand, how was I to reconcile this reputation with herconstant refusal of the young count whom we had found at her house? Youmay say that he was unattractive to her, and that, as she was splendidlykept by the duke, she would be more likely to choose a man who wasattractive to her, if she were to take another lover. If so, why did shenot choose Gaston, who was rich, witty, and charming, and why did shecare for me, whom she had thought so ridiculous the first time she hadseen me?

  It is true that there are events of a moment which tell more than thecourtship of a year. Of those who were at the supper, I was the only onewho had been concerned at her leaving the table. I had followed her, Ihad been so affected as to be unable to hide it from her, I had wept asI kissed her hand. This circumstance, added to my daily visits duringthe two months of her illness, might have shown her that I was somewhatdifferent from the other men she knew, and perhaps she had said toherself that for a love which could thus manifest itself she might welldo what she had done so often that it had no more consequence for her.

  All these suppositions, as you may see, were improbable enough; butwhatever might have been the reason of her consent, one thing wascertain, she had consented.

  Now, I was in love with Marguerite. I had nothing more to ask of her.Nevertheless, though she was only a kept woman, I had so anticipated formyself, perhaps to poetize it a little, a hopeless love, that the nearerthe moment approached when I should have nothing more to hope, the moreI doubted. I did not close my eyes all night.

  I scarcely knew myself. I was half demented. Now, I seemed to myself nothandsome or rich or elegant enough to possess such a woman, now I wasfilled with vanity at the thought of it; then I began to fear lestMarguerite had no more than a few days' caprice for me, and I said tomyself that since we should soon have to part, it would be better not tokeep her appointment, but to write and tell her my fears and leave her.From that I went on to unlimited hope, unbounded confidence. I dreamedincredible dreams of the future; I said to myself that she should oweto me her moral and physical recovery, that I should spend my whole lifewith her, and that her love should make me happier than all the maidenlyloves in the world.

  But I can not repeat to you the thousand thoughts that rose from myheart to my head, and that only faded away with the sleep that came tome at daybreak.

  When I awoke it was two o'clock. The weather was superb. I don't thinklife ever seemed to me so beautiful and so full of possibilities. Thememories of the night before came to me without shadow or hindrance,escorted gaily by the hopes of the night to come. From time to time myheart leaped with love and joy in my breast. A sweet fever thrilledme. I thought no more of the reasons which had filled my mind before Islept. I saw only the result, I thought only of the hour when I was tosee Marguerite again.

  It was impossible to stay indoors. My room seemed too small to containmy happiness. I needed the whole of nature to unbosom myself.

  I went out. Passing by the Rue d'Antin, I saw Marguerite's coupe'waiting for her at the door. I went toward the Champs-Elysees. I lovedall the people whom I met. Love gives one a kind of goodness.

  After I had been walking for an hour from the Marly horses to theRond-Point, I saw Marguerite's carriage in the distance; I divinedrather than recognised it. As it was turning the corner of theChamps-Elysees it stopped, and a tall young man left a group of peoplewith whom he was talking and came up to her. They talked for a fewmoments; the young man returned to his friends, the horses set outagain, and as I came near the group I recognised the one who had spokento Marguerite as the Comte de G., whose portrait I had seen and whomPrudence had indicated to me as the man to whom Marguerite owed herposition. It was to him that she had closed her doors the night before;I imagined that she had stopped her carriage in order to explain to himwhy she had done so, and I hoped that at the same time she had foundsome new pretext for not receiving him on the following night.

  How I spent the rest of the day I do not know; I walked, smoked, talked,but what I said, whom I met, I had utterly forgotten by ten o'clock inthe evening.

  All I remember is that when I returned home, I spent three hours overmy toilet, and I looked at my watch and my clock a hundred times, whichunfortunately both pointed to the same hour.

  When it struck half past ten, I said to myself that it was time to go.

  I lived at that time in the Rue de Provence; I followed the Rue duMont-Blanc, crossed the Boulevard, went up the Rue Louis-le-Grand, theRue de Port-Mahon, and the Rue d'Antin. I looked up at Marguerite'swindows. There was a light. I rang. I asked the porter if Mlle. Gautierwas at home. He replied that she never came in before eleven or aquarter past eleven. I looked at my watch. I intended to come quiteslowly, and I had come in five minutes from the Rue de Provence to theRue d'Antin.

  I walked to and fro in the street; there are no shops, and at that hourit is quite deserted. In half an hour's time Marguerite arrived. Shelooked around her as she got down from her coupe, as if she werelooking for someone. The carriage drove off; the stables were not atthe house. Just as Marguerite was going to ring, I went up to her andsaid, "Good-evening."

  "Ah, it is you," she said, in a tone that by no means reassured me as toher pleasure in seeing me.

  "Did you not promise me that I might come and see you to-day?"

  "Quite right. I had forgotten."

  This word upset all the reflections I had had during the day.Nevertheless, I was beginning to get used to her ways, and I did notleave her, as I should certainly have done once. We entered. Nanine hadalready opened the door.

  "Has Prudence come?" said Marguerite.

  "No, madame."

  "Say that she is to be admitted as soon as she comes. But first put outthe lamp in the drawing-room, and if anyone comes, say that I have notcome back and shall not be coming back."

  She was like a woman who is preoccupied with something, and perhapsannoyed by an unwelcome guest. I did not know what to do or say.Marguerite went toward her bedroom; I remained where I was.

  "Come," she said.

  She took off her hat and her velvet cloak and threw them on the bed,then let herself drop into a great armchair beside the fire, which shekept till the very beginning of summer, and said to me as she fingeredher watch-chain:

  "Well, what news have you got for me?"


  "None, except that I ought not to have come to-night."

  "Why?"

  "Because you seem vexed, and no doubt I am boring you."

  "You are not boring me; only I am not well; I have been suffering allday. I could not sleep, and I have a frightful headache."

  "Shall I go away and let you go to bed?"

  "Oh, you can stay. If I want to go to bed I don't mind your being here."

  At that moment there was a ring.

  "Who is coming now?" she said, with an impatient movement.

  A few minutes after there was another ring.

  "Isn't there anyone to go to the door? I shall have to go." She got upand said to me, "Wait here."

  She went through the rooms, and I heard her open the outer door. Ilistened.

  The person whom she had admitted did not come farther than thedining-room. At the first word I recognised the voice of the young Comtede N.

  "How are you this evening?" he said.

  "Not well," replied Marguerite drily.

  "Am I disturbing you?"

  "Perhaps.

  "How you receive me! What have I done, my dear Marguerite?"

  "My dear friend, you have done nothing. I am ill; I must go to bed, soyou will be good enough to go. It is sickening not to be able to returnat night without your making your appearance five minutes afterward.What is it you want? For me to be your mistress? Well, I have alreadytold you a hundred times, No; you simply worry me, and you might as wellgo somewhere else. I repeat to you to-day, for the last time, I don'twant to have anything to do with you; that's settled. Good-bye. Here'sNanine coming in; she can light you to the door. Good-night."

  Without adding another word, or listening to what the young manstammered out, Marguerite returned to the room and slammed the door.Nanine entered a moment after.

  "Now understand," said Marguerite, "you are always to say to that idiotthat I am not in, or that I will not see him. I am tired out with seeingpeople who always want the same thing; who pay me for it, and then thinkthey are quit of me. If those who are going to go in for our hatefulbusiness only knew what it really was they would sooner be chambermaids.But no, vanity, the desire of having dresses and carriages and diamondscarries us away; one believes what one hears, for here, as elsewhere,there is such a thing as belief, and one uses up one's heart, one'sbody, one's beauty, little by little; one is feared like a beast ofprey, scorned like a pariah, surrounded by people who always take morethan they give; and one fine day one dies like a dog in a ditch, afterhaving ruined others and ruined one's self."

  "Come, come, madame, be calm," said Nanine; "your nerves are a bit upsetto-night."

  "This dress worries me," continued Marguerite, unhooking her bodice;"give me a dressing-gown. Well, and Prudence?"

  "She has not come yet, but I will send her to you, madame, the momentshe comes."

  "There's one, now," Marguerite went on, as she took off her dress andput on a white dressing-gown, "there's one who knows very well how tofind me when she is in want of me, and yet she can't do me a servicedecently. She knows I am waiting for an answer. She knows how anxious Iam, and I am sure she is going about on her own account, without givinga thought to me."

  "Perhaps she had to wait."

  "Let us have some punch."

  "It will do you no good, madame," said Nanine.

  "So much the better. Bring some fruit, too, and a pate or a wing ofchicken; something or other, at once. I am hungry."

  Need I tell you the impression which this scene made upon me, or can younot imagine it?

  "You are going to have supper with me," she said to me; "meanwhile, takea book. I am going into my dressing-room for a moment."

  She lit the candles of a candelabra, opened a door at the foot of thebed, and disappeared.

  I began to think over this poor girl's life, and my love for her wasmingled with a great pity. I walked to and fro in the room, thinkingover things, when Prudence entered.

  "Ah, you here?"' she said, "where is Marguerite?"

  "In her dressing-room."

  "I will wait. By the way, do you know she thinks you charming?"

  "No."

  "She hasn't told you?"

  "Not at all."

  "How are you here?"

  "I have come to pay her a visit."

  "At midnight?"

  "Why not?"

  "Farceur!"

  "She has received me, as a matter of fact, very badly."

  "She will receive you better by and bye."

  "Do you think so?"

  "I have some good news for her."

  "No harm in that. So she has spoken to you about me?"

  "Last night, or rather to-night, when you and your friend went. By theway, what is your friend called? Gaston R., his name is, isn't it?"

  "Yes," said I, not without smiling, as I thought of what Gaston hadconfided to me, and saw that Prudence scarcely even knew his name.

  "He is quite nice, that fellow; what does he do?"

  "He has twenty-five thousand francs a year."

  "Ah, indeed! Well, to return to you. Marguerite asked me all aboutyou: who you were, what you did, what mistresses you had had; in short,everything that one could ask about a man of your age. I told her all Iknew, and added that you were a charming young man. That's all."

  "Thanks. Now tell me what it was she wanted to say to you last night."

  "Nothing at all. It was only to get rid of the count; but I have reallysomething to see her about to-day, and I am bringing her an answer now."

  At this moment Marguerite reappeared from her dressing-room, wearing acoquettish little nightcap with bunches of yellow ribbons, technicallyknown as "cabbages." She looked ravishing. She had satin slippers on herbare feet, and was in the act of polishing her nails.

  "Well," she said, seeing Prudence, "have you seen the duke?"

  "Yes, indeed."

  "And what did he say to you?"

  "He gave me--"

  "How much?"

  "Six thousand."

  "Have you got it?"

  "Yes.

  "Did he seem put out?"

  "No."

  "Poor man!"

  This "Poor man!" was said in a tone impossible to render. Margueritetook the six notes of a thousand francs.

  "It was quite time," she said. "My dear Prudence, are you in want of anymoney?"

  "You know, my child, it is the 15th in a couple of days, so if you couldlend me three or four hundred francs, you would do me a real service."

  "Send over to-morrow; it is too late to get change now."

  "Don't forget."

  "No fear. Will you have supper with us?"

  "No, Charles is waiting for me."

  "You are still devoted to him?"

  "Crazy, my dear! I will see you to-morrow. Good-bye, Armand."

  Mme. Duvernoy went out.

  Marguerite opened the drawer of a side-table and threw the bank-notesinto it.

  "Will you permit me to get into bed?" she said with a smile, as shemoved toward the bed.

  "Not only permit, but I beg of you."

  She turned back the covering and got into bed.

  "Now," said she, "come and sit down by me, and let's have a talk."

  Prudence was right: the answer that she had brought to Marguerite hadput her into a good humour.

  "Will you forgive me for my bad temper tonight?" she said, taking myhand.

  "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, andsome 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 lastwords, my eyes fixed ardently upon her.

&nbs
p; "Good," said she; "put it all on the little table, and draw it up to thebed; 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 anythingmore."

  "Shall I lock the door?"

  "I should think so! And above all, tell them not to admit anybody beforemidday."