You do not accept the position, you reject it as unworthy of you; you are an ordinary lover.
Do like the others; pay me, and say no more about it." Marguerite, tired out with this long confession, threw herself back on the sofa, and to stifle a slight cough put up her handkerchief to her lips, and from that to her eyes.
"Pardon, pardon," I murmured.

"I understood it all, but I wanted to have it from your own lips, my beloved Marguerite.

Forget the rest and remember only one thing: that we belong to one another, that we are young, and that we love.

Marguerite, do with me as you will; I am your slave, your dog, but in the name of heaven tear up the letter which I wrote to you and do not make me leave you to-morrow; it would kill me." Marguerite drew the letter from her bosom, and handing it to me with a smile of infinite sweetness, said: "Here it is.

I have brought it back." I tore the letter into fragments and kissed with tears the hand that gave it to me.
At this moment Prudence reappeared.
"Look here, Prudence; do you know what he wants ?" said Marguerite.
"He wants you to forgive him." "Precisely." "And you do ?" "One has to; but he wants more than that." "What, then ?" "He wants to have supper with us." "And do you consent ?" "What do you think ?" "I think that you are two children who haven't an atom of sense between you; but I also think that I am very hungry, and that the sooner you consent the sooner we shall have supper." "Come," said Marguerite, "there is room for the three of us in my carriage." "By the way," she added, turning to me, "Nanine will be gone to bed.