When I reached home I began to cry like a child.

There is no man to whom a woman has not been unfaithful, once at least, and who will not know what I suffered.
I said to myself, under the weight of these feverish resolutions which one always feels as if one had the force to carry out, that I must break with my amour at once, and I waited impatiently for daylight in order to set out forthwith to rejoin my father and my sister, of whose love at least I was certain, and certain that that love would never be betrayed.
However, I did not wish to go away without letting Marguerite know why I went.

Only a man who really cares no more for his mistress leaves her without writing to her.

I made and remade twenty letters in my head.

I had had to do with a woman like all other women of the kind.