This is what the letter contained; I shall like writing it over again,
so as to give myself another proof of my own justification.

You remember, Armand, how the arrival of your father surprised us at
Bougival; you remember the involuntary fright that his arrival caused
me, and the scene which took place between you and him, which you told
me of in the evening.

Next day, when you were at Paris, waiting for your father, and he did
not return, a man came to the door and handed in a letter from M. Duval.

His letter, which I inclose with this, begged me, in the most serious
terms, to keep you away on the following day, on some excuse or
other, and to see your father, who wished to speak to me, and asked me
particularly not to say anything to you about it.

You know how I insisted on your returning to Paris next day.

You had only been gone an hour when your father presented himself. I
won't say what impression his severe face made upon me. Your father had
the old theory that a courtesan is a being without heart or reason, a
sort of machine for coining gold, always ready, like the machine,
to bruise the hand that gives her everything, and to tear in pieces,
without pity or discernment, those who set her in motion.

Your father had written me a very polite letter, in order that I might
consent to see him; he did not present himself quite as he had written.
His manner at first was so stiff, insolent, and even threatening, that I
had to make him understand that I was in my own house, and that I had no
need to render him an account of my life, except because of the sincere
affection which I had for his son.