deserted me, and, feeling utterly unable to enter our apartment until I had recovered myself, I determined to leave the house again under the pretext of having some further business to attend to. I accordingly ordered the girl to inform her mistress that I should return in a few minutes, but not to mention that she had told me anything about Monsieur de B———.
I was so completely overcome that, as I made my way down-stairs, I could not restrain my tears, though as yet I scarcely knew from what feeling they arose. I went into the nearest café, and there, seating myself at a table
and burying my face in my hands, I tried to innavel the chaos of emotions which were surging in my heart. I dared not recall what I had just heard, but sought to cheat myself into believing it all a dream. More than once I was on the point of going back to our lodgings and acting as though I knew nothing of the occurrence. It seemed to me so impossible that Manon could have been unfaithful to me, that I feared to wrong her even by a suspicion. I adored her—that was certain; I had given her
no greater proofs of my love than I had received of hers; why, then, should I accuse her of being less sincere and constant than myself? What reason could she have had
