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must die； it is better to let everything go than to save it for her family；
whom she has never cared to see； and who have never cared for her。 You
can not conceive in the midst of what gilded misery the poor thing is dying。
Yesterday we had absolutely no money。 Plate； jewels； shawls； everything
is in pawn； the rest is sold or seized。 Marguerite is still conscious of what
goes on around her； and she suffers in body； mind； and heart。 Big tears
trickle down her cheeks； so thin and pale that you would never recognise
the face of her whom you loved so much； if you could see her。 She has
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made me promise to write to you when she can no longer write； and I
write before her。 She turns her eyes toward me； but she no longer sees me；
her eyes are already veiled by the coming of death； yet she smiles； and all
her thoughts； all her soul are yours； I am sure。
Every time the door opens her eyes brighten； and she thinks you are
going to come in； then； when she sees that it is not you； her face resumes
its sorrowful expression； a cold sweat breaks out over it； and her cheek…
bones flush。
February 19； midnight。
What a sad day we have had to…day； poor M。 Armand！ This morning
Marguerite was stifling； the doctor bled her； and her voice has returned to
her a while。 The doctor begged her to see a priest。 She said 〃Yes；〃 and he
went himself to fetch an abbe' from Saint Roch。
Meanwhile Marguerite called me up to her bed； asked me to open a
cupboard； and pointed out a cap and a long chemise covered with lace； and
said in a feeble voice：
〃I shall die as soon as I have confessed。 Then you will dress me in
these things； it is the whim of a dying woman。？
Then she embraced me with tears and added：
〃I can speak； but I am stifled when I speak； I am stifling。 Air！〃
I burst into tears； opened the window； and a few minutes afterward the
priest entered。 I went up to him； when he knew where he was； he seemed
afraid of being badly received。
〃Come in boldly； father；〃 I said to him。
He stayed a very short time in the room； and when he came out he said
to me：
〃She lived a sinner； and she will die a Christian。〃
A few minutes afterward he returned with a choir boy bearing a
crucifix； and a sacristan who went before them ringing the bell to
announce that God was coming to the dying one。
They went all three into the bed…room where so many strange words
have been said； but was now a sort of holy tabernacle。
I fell on my knees。 I do not know how long the impression of what I
saw will last； but I do not think that； till my turn comes； any human thing
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can make so deep an impression on me。
The priest anointed with holy oil the feet and hands and forehead of
the dying woman； repeated a short prayer； and Marguerite was ready to set
out for the heaven to which I doubt not she will go； if God has seen the
ordeal of her life and the sanctity of her death。
Since then she has not said a word or made a movement。 Twenty times
I should have thought her dead if I had not heard her breathing painfully。
February 20； 5 P。M。
All is over。
Marguerite fell into her last agony at about two o'clock。 Never did a
martyr suffer such torture； to judge by the cries she uttered。 Two or three
times she sat upright in the bed； as if she would hold on to her life； which
was escaping toward God。
Two or three times also she said your name； then all was silent； and
she fell back on the bed exhausted。 Silent tears flowed from her eyes； and
she was dead。
Then I went up to her； I called her； and as she did not answer I closed
her eyes and kissed her on the forehead。
Poor； dear Marguerite； I wish I were a holy woman that my kiss might
recommend you to God。
Then I dressed her as she had asked me to do。 I went to find a priest at
Saint Roch； I burned two candles for her； and I prayed in the church for an
hour。
I gave the money she left to the poor。
I do not know much about religion； but I think that God will know that
my tears were genuine； my prayers fervent； my alms…giving sincere； and
that he will have pity on her who； dying young and beautiful； has only had
me to close her eyes and put her in her shroud。
February 22。
The burial took place to…day。 Many of Marguerite's friends came to the
church。 Some of them wept with sincerity。 When the funeral started on the
way to Montmartre only two men followed it： the Comte de G。； who came
from London on purpose； and the duke； who was supported by two
footmen。
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I write you these details from her house； in the midst of my tears and
under the lamp which burns sadly beside a dinner which I can not touch；
as you can imagine； but which Nanine has got for me； for I have eaten
nothing for twenty…four hours。
My life can not retain these sad impressions for long； for my life is not
my own any more than Marguerite's was hers； that is why I give you all
these details on the very spot where they occurred； in the fear； if a long
time elapsed between them and your return； that I might not be able to
give them to you with all their melancholy exactitude。
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CHAPTER 27
〃You have read it？〃 said Armand； when I had finished the manuscript。
〃I understand what you must have suffered； my friend； if all that I read
is true。〃
〃My father confirmed it in a letter。〃
We talked for some time over the sad destiny which had been
accomplished； and I went home to rest a little。
Armand； still sad； but a little relieved by the narration of his story；
soon recovered； and we went together to pay a visit to Prudence and to
Julie Duprat。
Prudence had become bankrupt。 She told us that Marguerite was the
cause of it； that during her illness she had lent her a lot of money in the
form of promissory notes； which she could not pay； Marguerite having
died without having returned her the money； and without having given her
a receipt with which she could present herself as a creditor。
By the help of this fable； which Mme。 Duvernoy repeated everywhere
in order to account for her money difficulties； she extracted a note for a
thousand francs from Armand； who did not believe it； but who pretended
to； out of respect for all those in whose company Marguerite had lived。
Then we called on Julie Duprat； who told us the sad incident which
she had witnessed； shedding real tears at the remembrance of her friend。
Lastly； we went to Marguerite's grave； on which the first rays of the
April sun were bringing the first leaves into bud。
One duty remained to Armandto return to his father。 He wished me to
accompany him。
We arrived at C。； where I saw M。 Duval； such as I had imagined him
from the portrait his son had made of him； tall； dignified； kindly。
He welcomed Armand with tears of joy； and clasped my hand
affectionately。 I was not long in seeing that the paternal sentiment was that
which dominated all others in his mind。
His daughter； named Blanche； had that transparence of eyes； that
serenity of the mouth； which indicates a soul that conceives only holy
thoughts and lips that repeat only pious words。 She welcomed her
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brother's return with smiles； not knowing； in the purity of her youth； that
far away a courtesan had sacrificed her own happiness at the mere
invocation of her name。
I remained for some time in their happy family； full of indulgent care
for one who brought them the convalescence of his heart。
I returned to Paris； where I wrote this story just as it had been told me。
It has only one merit； which will perhaps be denied it； that is；