Then it occurred to me, since I had the key, to go and see her as usual.
In this way I should soon know the truth, and if I found a man there I
would strike him in the face.
Meanwhile I went to the Champs-Elysees. I waited there four hours. She
did not appear. At night I went into all the theatres where she was
accustomed to go. She was in none of them.
At eleven o'clock I went to the Rue d'Antin. There was no light in
Marguerite's windows. All the same, I rang. The porter asked me where I
was going.
"To Mlle. Gautier's," I said.
"She has not come in."
"I will go up and wait for her."
"There is no one there."
Evidently I could get in, since I had the key, but, fearing foolish
scandal, I went away. Only I did not return home; I could not leave the
street, and I never took my eyes off Marguerite's house. It seemed to
me that there was still something to be found out, or at least that my
suspicions were about to be confirmed.
About midnight a carriage that I knew well stopped before No. 9. The
Comte de G. got down and entered the house, after sending away the
carriage. For a moment I hoped that the same answer would be given to
him as to me, and that I should see him come out; but at four o'clock in
the morning I was still awaiting him.
I have suffered deeply during these last three weeks, but that is
nothing, I think, in comparison with what I suffered that night.