Camille. Александр Дюма-сын

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      Chapter 6

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      I found Armand in bed. On seeing me he held out a burning hand. “You are feverish,” I said to him. “It is nothing, the fatigue of a rapid journey; that is all.” “You have been to see Marguerite’s sister?” “Yes; who told you?” “I knew it. Did you get what you wanted?”

      “Yes; but who told you of my journey, and of my reason for taking it?”

      “The gardener of the cemetery.”

      “You have seen the tomb?”

      I scarcely dared reply, for the tone in which the words were spoken proved to me that the speaker was still possessed by the emotion which I had witnessed before, and that every time his thoughts or speech travelled back to that mournful subject emotion would still, for a long time to come, prove stronger than his will. I contented myself with a nod of the head.

      “He has looked after it well?” continued Armand. Two big tears rolled down the cheeks of the sick man, and he turned away his head to hide them from me. I pretended not to see them, and tried to change the conversation. “You have been away three weeks,” I said.

      Armand passed his hand across his eyes and replied, “Exactly three weeks.”

      “You had a long journey.”

      “Oh, I was not travelling all the time. I was ill for a fortnight or I should have returned long ago; but I had scarcely got there when I took this fever, and I was obliged to keep my room.”

      “And you started to come back before you were really well?”

      “If I had remained in the place for another week, I should have died there.”

      “Well, now you are back again, you must take care of yourself; your friends will come and look after you; myself, first of all, if you will allow me.”

      “I shall get up in a couple of hours.”

      “It would be very unwise.”

      “I must.”

      “What have you to do in such a great hurry?”

      “I must go to the inspector of police.”

      “Why do you not get one of your friends to see after the matter? It is likely to make you worse than you are now.”

      “It is my only chance of getting better. I must see her. Ever since I heard of her death, especially since I saw her grave, I have not been able to sleep. I can not realize that this woman, so young and so beautiful when I left her, is really dead. I must convince myself of it. I must see what God has done with a being that I have loved so much, and perhaps the horror of the sight will cure me of my despair. Will you accompany me, if it won’t be troubling you too much?”

      “What did her sister say about it?”

      “Nothing. She seemed greatly surprised that a stranger wanted to buy a plot of ground and give Marguerite a new grave, and she immediately signed the authorization that I asked her for.”

      “Believe me, it would be better to wait until you are quite well.”

      “Have no fear; I shall be quite composed. Besides, I should simply go out of my mind if I were not to carry out a resolution which I have set myself to carry out. I swear to you that I shall never be myself again until I have seen Marguerite. It is perhaps the thirst of the fever, a sleepless night’s dream, a moment’s delirium; but though I were to become a Trappist, like M. de Rance’, after having seen, I will see.”

      “I understand,” I said to Armand, “and I am at your service. Have you seen Julie Duprat?”

      “Yes, I saw her the day I returned, for the first time.”

      “Did she give you the papers that Marguerite had left for you?”

      Armand drew a roll of papers from under his pillow, and immediately put them back.

      “I know all that is in these papers by heart,” he said. “For three weeks I have read them ten times over every day. You shall read them, too, but later on, when I am calmer, and can make you understand all the love and tenderness hidden away in this confession. For the moment I want you to do me a service.”

      “What is it?”

      “Your cab is below?”

      “Yes.

      “Well, will you take my passport and ask if there СКАЧАТЬ