It seemed to me as if the train did not move. I reached Bougival at
eleven.

Not a window in the house was lighted up, and when I rang no one
answered the bell. It was the first time that such a thing had occurred
to me. At last the gardener came. I entered. Nanine met me with a light.
I went to Marguerite's room.

"Where is madame?"

"Gone to Paris," replied Nanine.

"To Paris!"

"Yes, sir."

"When?"

"An hour after you."

"She left no word for me?"

"Nothing."

Nanine left me.

Perhaps she had some suspicion or other, I thought, and went to Paris
to make sure that my visit to my father was not an excuse for a day
off. Perhaps Prudence wrote to her about something important. I said to
myself when I was alone; but I saw Prudence; she said nothing to make me
suppose that she had written to Marguerite.

All at once I remembered Mme. Duvernoy's question, "Isn't she coming
to-day?" when I had said that Marguerite was ill. I remembered at the
same time how embarrassed Prudence had appeared when I looked at
her after this remark, which seemed to indicate an appointment. I
remembered, too, Marguerite's tears all day long, which my father's
kind reception had rather put out of my mind. From this moment all the
incidents grouped themselves about my first suspicion, and fixed it so
firmly in my mind that everything served to confirm it, even my father's
kindness.