Stick to her; she will do you credit." These simple reflections of Gaston showed me how absurd had been my susceptibilities.

If I had only met him the night before and he had spoken to me like that, I should certainly not have written the foolish letter which I had written.
I was on the point of calling on Prudence, and of sending her to tell Marguerite that I wanted to speak to her; but I feared that she would revenge herself on me by saying that she could not see me, and I returned home, after passing through the Rue d'Antin.

Again I asked my porter if there was a letter for me.

Nothing! She is waiting to see if I shall take some fresh step, and if I retract my letter of to-day, I said to myself as I went to bed; but, seeing that I do not write, she will write to me to-morrow.
That night, more than ever, I reproached myself for what I had done.

I was alone, unable to sleep, devoured by restlessness and jealousy, when by simply letting things take their natural course I should have been with Marguerite, hearing the delicious words which I had heard only twice, and which made my ears burn in my solitude.
The most frightful part of the situation was that my judgment was against me; as a matter of fact, everything went to prove that Marguerite loved me.