I went to Very's in the Palais Royal.

The waiter gave me something to eat, or rather served up to me whatever he liked, for I ate nothing.

In spite of myself, my eyes were constantly fixed on the clock.

I returned home, certain that I should find a letter from Marguerite.
The porter had received nothing, but I still hoped in my servant.

He had seen no one since I went out.
If Marguerite had been going to answer me she would have answered long before.
Then I began to regret the terms of my letter; I should have said absolutely nothing, and that would undoubtedly have aroused her suspicions, for, finding that I did not keep my appointment, she would have inquired the reason of my absence, and only then I should have given it to her.