"Forgive me for the few tedious hours that I have given you, and be
assured that I shall never forget the happy moments which I owe to you.

"I should have called to-day to ask after you, but I intend going back
to my father's.

"Good-bye, my dear Marguerite. I am not rich enough to love you as I
would nor poor enough to love you as you would. Let us then forget, you
a name which must be indifferent enough to you, I a happiness which has
become impossible.

"I send back your key, which I have never used, and which might be
useful to you, if you are often ill as you were yesterday."

As you will see, I was unable to end my letter without a touch of
impertinent irony, which proved how much in love I still was.

I read and reread this letter ten times over; then the thought of the
pain it would give to Marguerite calmed me a little. I tried to persuade
myself of the feelings which it professed; and when my servant came to
my room at eight o'clock, I gave it to him and told him to take it at
once.

"Shall I wait for an answer?" asked Joseph (my servant, like all
servants, was called Joseph).

"If they ask whether there is a reply, you will say that you don't know,
and wait."