The Lady of the Camellias by Alexandre Dumas Fils

Author:Alexandre Dumas Fils
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-05-16T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIV

Returning home, I began to cry like a baby. Any man who has been deceived even once knows the suffering it causes.

I told myself, under the influence of those fevered resolutions that one always believes one will have the strength to keep, that I had to end this affair immediately, and I impatiently awaited the coming of morning so I could resume my former life and return to my father and sister, a double love I could feel sure of, and which would never betray me.

However, I did not want to leave without Marguerite knowing why I was leaving. Only a man who emphatically no longer loves his mistress leaves without writing her.

I wrote and rewrote twenty letters in my head.

I was involved with a girl who was like all other kept women. I had romanticized her far too much; she had treated me like a schoolboy, using a trick of insulting simplicity to deceive me, it was clear. My pride took over. I had to leave this woman without giving her the satisfaction of knowing that the rupture had hurt me, and here is what I wrote to her in my most elegant script, with tears of rage and pain in my eyes:

“My dear Marguerite,

“I hope that yesterday’s indisposition has not troubled you too greatly. I dropped by at eleven last night for news of you, and was told that you had not returned. M. de G . . . was more fortunate than I, as he presented himself a few moments later, and at four in the morning was still with you.

“Forgive the tedious hours that I subjected you to, and be assured that I will never forget the happy moments that I owe to you.

“I certainly would have been eager to learn your news today, but I am planning to return to my family.

“Adieu, my dear Marguerite; I am neither rich enough to love you as I would like, nor poor enough to love you as you would prefer. Let us forget then—you, a name that must be practically indifferent to you; I, a happiness that has become impossible for me.

“I am sending you back your key, which has never been of use to me and could be of use to you, if you often fall sick as you did yesterday.”

As you see, I did not have the strength to finish the letter without a flourish of insolent irony, which proved how much in love I still was.

I read and reread the letter ten times, and the idea that it would cause Marguerite pain calmed me a little. I tried to buck myself up by imagining the emotions she would feel, and when at eight o’clock my servant entered, I gave him the letter so he could take it to her at once.

“Should I wait for a response?” Joseph asked (my servant was named Joseph, like all servants).

“If anyone asks if a response is expected, say that you know nothing and that you will wait.”

I clung to the hope that she would respond.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.