This is a modern-English version of Manon Lescaut, originally written by Prévost, abbé. It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling, and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.

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MANON LESCAUT


by

Abbé Prévost




    I     II     III     IV     V     VI     VII     VIII     IX     X     XI     XII     XIII




I


Why did he love her? Curious fool, be still!
Is human love the fruit of human will?
         BYRON.

Why did he love her? Curious fool, be quiet!
Is human love simply a result of human choice?
BYRON.


Just about six months before my departure for Spain, I first met the Chevalier des Grieux. Though I rarely quitted my retreat, still the interest I felt in my child's welfare induced me occasionally to undertake short journeys, which, however, I took good care to abridge as much as possible.

Just about six months before I left for Spain, I first met the Chevalier des Grieux. Even though I rarely left my retreat, my concern for my child's well-being occasionally pushed me to take short trips, which I made sure to shorten as much as I could.

I was one day returning from Rouen, where I had been, at her request, to attend a cause then pending before the Parliament of Normandy, respecting an inheritance to which I had claims derived from my maternal grandfather. Having taken the road by Evreux, where I slept the first night, I on the following day, about dinner-time, reached Passy, a distance of five or six leagues. I was amazed, on entering this quiet town, to see all the inhabitants in commotion. They were pouring from their houses in crowds, towards the gate of a small inn, immediately before which two covered vans were drawn up. Their horses still in harness, and reeking from fatigue and heat, showed that the cortege had only just arrived. I stopped for a moment to learn the cause of the tumult, but could gain little information from the curious mob as they rushed by, heedless of my enquiries, and hastening impatiently towards the inn in the utmost confusion. At length an archer of the civic guard, wearing his bandolier, and carrying a carbine on his shoulder, appeared at the gate; so, beckoning him towards me, I begged to know the cause of the uproar. "Nothing, sir," said he, "but a dozen of the frail sisterhood, that I and my comrades are conducting to Havre-de-Grace, whence we are to ship them for America. There are one or two of them pretty enough; and it is that, apparently, which attracts the curiosity of these good people."

I was one day coming back from Rouen, where I had gone, at her request, to attend a case that was pending before the Parliament of Normandy regarding an inheritance that I had claims to from my maternal grandfather. I took the route through Evreux, where I spent the first night, and the next day, around lunchtime, I reached Passy, which was about five or six leagues away. I was surprised when I entered this quiet town to see all the residents in a frenzy. They were flooding out of their houses in crowds, heading towards the gate of a small inn, right in front of which two covered vans were parked. The horses were still harnessed and covered in sweat, showing that the procession had just arrived. I paused for a moment to find out what was going on, but I could get little information from the curious crowd rushing past me, ignoring my questions, and hurrying impatiently towards the inn in total chaos. Finally, an archer from the civic guard, wearing his bandolier and carrying a carbine on his shoulder, appeared at the gate; so, I signaled him to come over and asked him what was causing the commotion. "Nothing, sir," he said, "just a dozen of the frail sisterhood that my comrades and I are escorting to Havre-de-Grace, from where we'll ship them off to America. There are one or two of them attractive enough; it seems that's what’s drawing the curiosity of these people."

I should have passed on, satisfied with this explanation, if my attention had not been arrested by the cries of an old woman, who was coming out of the inn with her hands clasped, and exclaiming:

I should have moved on, content with this explanation, if I hadn't been drawn in by the shouts of an old woman, who was coming out of the inn with her hands together, shouting:

"A downright barbarity!—A scene to excite horror and compassion!" "What may this mean?" I enquired. "Oh! sir; go into the house yourself," said the woman, "and see if it is not a sight to rend your heart!" Curiosity made me dismount; and leaving my horse to the care of the ostler, I made my way with some difficulty through the crowd, and did indeed behold a scene sufficiently touching.

"A complete atrocity!—A sight that brings both terror and sympathy!" "What could this mean?" I asked. "Oh! Sir, you should go into the house yourself," the woman said, "and see if it isn't something that will break your heart!" My curiosity got the better of me, so I got off my horse; leaving it with the stableman, I navigated my way through the crowd with some effort, and I truly witnessed a scene that was profoundly moving.

Among the twelve girls, who were chained together by the waist in two rows, there was one, whose whole air and figure seemed so ill-suited to her present condition, that under other circumstances I should not have hesitated to pronounce her a person of high birth. Her excessive grief, and even the wretchedness of her attire, detracted so little from her surpassing beauty, that at first sight of her I was inspired with a mingled feeling of respect and pity.

Among the twelve girls chained together at the waist in two lines, there was one whose entire demeanor and figure seemed so out of place for her current situation that, in different circumstances, I wouldn't have thought twice about saying she was of noble birth. Her overwhelming sadness, and even the raggedness of her clothes, did little to lessen her incredible beauty, and at first glance, I felt a mix of respect and pity for her.

She tried, as well as the chain would permit her, to turn herself away, and hide her face from the rude gaze of the spectators. There was something so unaffected in the effort she made to escape observation, that it could but have sprung from natural and innate modesty alone.

She tried, as much as the chain would allow her, to turn away and hide her face from the rude stares of the onlookers. There was something so genuine in her attempt to avoid being seen that it could only come from a natural and instinctive modesty.

As the six men who escorted the unhappy train were together in the room, I took the chief one aside and asked for information respecting this beautiful girl. All that he could supply was of the most vague kind. "We brought her," he said, "from the Hospital, by order of the lieutenant-general of police. There is no reason to suppose that she was shut up there for good conduct.

As the six men who brought the troubled train were in the room together, I pulled the main one aside and asked for details about this beautiful girl. All he could provide was very vague information. "We brought her," he said, "from the hospital, on the orders of the police lieutenant-general. There’s no reason to think she was kept there for good behavior."

"I have questioned her often upon the road; but she persists in refusing even to answer me. Yet, although I received no orders to make any distinction between her and the others, I cannot help treating her differently, for she seems to me somewhat superior to her companions. Yonder is a young man," continued the archer, "who can tell you, better than I can, the cause of her misfortunes. He has followed her from Paris, and has scarcely dried his tears for a single moment. He must be either her brother or her lover."

"I've asked her many times along the way, but she keeps refusing to answer me. Still, even though I wasn't told to treat her differently from the others, I can't help but do so because she seems a bit better than her companions. Over there is a young man," the archer continued, "who can explain her troubles better than I can. He has followed her from Paris and hasn't stopped crying for even a moment. He must be either her brother or her lover."

I turned towards the corner of the room, where this young man was seated. He seemed buried in a profound reverie. Never did I behold a more affecting picture of grief. He was plainly dressed; but one may discover at the first glance a man of birth and education. As I approached him he rose, and there was so refined and noble an expression in his eyes, in his whole countenance, in his every movement, that I felt an involuntary impulse to render him any service in my power. "I am unwilling to intrude upon your sorrows," said I, taking a seat beside him, "but you will, perhaps, gratify the desire I feel to learn something about that beautiful girl, who seems little formed by nature for the miserable condition in which she is placed."

I turned toward the corner of the room, where this young man was sitting. He seemed lost in deep thought. I had never seen a more touching picture of grief. He was simply dressed, but you could tell at first glance that he was a person of good background and education. As I got closer, he stood up, and there was such a refined and noble look in his eyes, his whole expression, and every movement that I felt an urge to help him in any way I could. "I don’t want to intrude on your sadness," I said, sitting down next to him, "but maybe you could satisfy my curiosity about that beautiful girl who doesn’t seem suited for the miserable situation she’s in."

He answered me candidly, that he could not communicate her history without making himself known, and that he had urgent reasons for preserving his own incognito. "I may, however, tell you this much, for it is no longer a secret to these wretches," he continued, pointing to the guards,—"that I adore her with a passion so ardent and absorbing as to render me the most unhappy of human beings. I tried every means at Paris to effect her liberty. Petitions, artifice, force—all failed. Go where she may, I have resolved to follow her—to the extremity of the world. I shall embark with her and cross to America.

He spoke to me honestly, saying he couldn't share her story without revealing his identity and that he had urgent reasons for wanting to stay anonymous. “But I can tell you this much, as it’s no longer a secret to these wretches,” he said, pointing to the guards, “that I love her with a passion so intense and consuming that it makes me the unhappiest person alive. I tried everything in Paris to free her. Petitions, tricks, force—all failed. Wherever she goes, I’ve decided to follow her—to the ends of the earth. I will join her and cross to America.

"But think of the brutal inhumanity of these cowardly ruffians," he added, speaking of the guards; "they will not allow me to approach her! I had planned an open attack upon them some leagues from Paris; having secured, as I thought, the aid of four men, who for a considerable sum hired me their services. The traitors, however, left me to execute my scheme single-handed, and decamped with my money. The impossibility of success made me of course abandon the attempt, I then implored of the guards permission to follow in their train, promising them a recompense. The love of money procured their consent; but as they required payment every time I was allowed to speak to her, my purse was speedily emptied; and now that I am utterly penniless, they are barbarous enough to repulse me brutally, whenever I make the slightest attempt to approach her. It is but a moment since, that venturing to do so, in spite of their threats, one of the fellows raised the butt-end of his musket. I am now driven by their exactions to dispose of the miserable horse that has brought me hither, and am preparing to continue the journey on foot."

"But think about the cruel inhumanity of these cowardly thugs," he added, referring to the guards; "they won’t let me get anywhere near her! I had planned an open attack on them a few leagues outside of Paris, having secured, or so I thought, the help of four guys who agreed to work for me for a decent sum. However, those traitors abandoned me to carry out my plan on my own and took my money. The certainty of failure made me give up the attempt, so I begged the guards for permission to follow in their wake, promising them a reward. Their greed got me a yes, but since they demanded payment every time I was allowed to talk to her, my wallet emptied quickly; and now that I have no money left, they are cruel enough to shove me away violently whenever I try to get close to her. Just a moment ago, when I took the risk to approach, despite their threats, one of the guys raised the butt of his musket at me. I’m now forced by their demands to sell the poor horse that got me here, and I’m getting ready to continue the journey on foot."

Although he seemed to recite this story tranquilly enough, I observed the tears start to his eyes as he concluded. This adventure struck me as being not less singular than it was affecting. "I do not press you," said I to him, "to make me the confidant of your secrets; but if I can be of use to you in any way, I gladly tender you my services." "Alas!" replied he, "I see not the slightest ray of hope. I must reconcile myself to my destiny in all its rigour. I shall go to America: there, at least, I may be free to live with her I love. I have written to a friend, who will send me money to Havre-de-Grace. My only difficulty is to get so far, and to supply that poor creature," added he, as he cast a look of sorrow at his mistress, "with some few comforts upon the way." "Well!" said I to him, "I shall relieve you from that difficulty. Here is some money, of which I entreat your acceptance: I am only sorry that I can be of no greater service to you."

Although he told this story calmly enough, I noticed tears welling up in his eyes as he finished. This adventure struck me as just as remarkable as it was moving. "I don't want to pressure you," I said to him, "to share your secrets with me; but if I can help you in any way, I'm more than willing to offer my assistance." "Alas!" he replied, "I see no glimmer of hope. I must accept my fate in all its harshness. I’m going to America; there, at least, I can be free to live with the woman I love. I've written to a friend who will send me money to Havre-de-Grace. My only challenge is getting that far and providing that poor girl," he said, looking sadly at his mistress, "with some comforts along the way." "Well!" I said to him, "I'll take care of that challenge. Here’s some money, which I kindly ask you to accept: I only wish I could do more to help you."

I gave him four louis-d'ors without being perceived by the guards; for I thought that if they knew he had this money, they might have raised the price of their concessions. It occurred to me, even, to come to an understanding with them, in order to secure for the young man the privilege of conversing with his mistress, during the rest of the journey to Havre, without hindrance. I beckoned the chief to approach, and made the proposition to him. It seemed to abash the ruffian, in spite of his habitual effrontery. "It is not, sir," said he, in an embarrassed tone, "that we refuse to let him speak to the girl, but he wishes to be always near her, which puts us to inconvenience; and it is just that we should be paid for the trouble he occasions." "Let us see!" said I to him, "what would suffice to prevent you from feeling the inconvenience?" He had the audacity to demand two louis. I gave them to him on the spot. "But have a care," said I to him, "that we have no foul play: for I shall give the young man my address, in order that he may write to me on his arrival; and be assured that I am not without the power to punish you." It cost me altogether six louis-d'ors.

I gave him four gold coins without the guards noticing, because I thought if they found out he had that money, they might increase what they were asking for. I even considered negotiating with them to secure the young man the right to talk to his girlfriend for the rest of the journey to Havre without any trouble. I signaled for the head guard to come over and made my proposal. Surprisingly, it seemed to catch the thug off guard, despite his usual boldness. "It's not that we won't let him talk to the girl," he said awkwardly, "but he wants to be close to her all the time, which is inconvenient for us, and it's fair that we should be compensated for the trouble he causes." "Let’s see," I said to him, "what would make it worth your while to avoid this inconvenience?" He had the nerve to ask for two gold coins. I handed them over right away. "But be careful," I warned him, "that there’s no foul play: I’ll give the young man my address so he can write to me when he arrives, and trust me, I can make sure you face consequences." It ended up costing me a total of six gold coins.

The graceful manner and heartfelt gratitude with which the young unknown thanked me, confirmed my notion that he was of good birth and merited my kindness. I addressed a few words to his mistress before I left the room. She replied to me with a modesty so gentle and so charming that I could not help making, as I went out, a thousand reflections upon the incomprehensible character of women.

The elegant way the young man expressed his gratitude confirmed my belief that he came from a good background and deserved my kindness. Before I left the room, I exchanged a few words with his lady. She responded with a modesty that was both gentle and charming, leaving me with a thousand thoughts about the mysterious nature of women as I walked out.

Returned to my retreat, I remained in ignorance of the result of this adventure; and ere two years had passed, it was completely blotted from my recollection, when chance brought me an opportunity of learning all the circumstances from beginning to end.

Returned to my retreat, I remained unaware of the outcome of this adventure; and before two years had passed, it was entirely erased from my memory, until chance gave me a chance to learn all the details from start to finish.

I arrived at Calais, from London, with my pupil, the Marquis of ——. We lodged, if I remember rightly, at the "Golden Lion," where, for some reason, we were obliged to spend the following day and night. Walking along the streets in the afternoon, I fancied I saw the same young man whom I had formerly met at Passy. He was miserably dressed, and much paler than when I first saw him. He carried on his arm an old portmanteau, having only just arrived in the town. However, there was an expression in his countenance too amiable not to be easily recognised, and which immediately brought his features to my recollection. "Observe that young man," said I to the Marquis; "we must accost him."

I arrived in Calais from London with my student, the Marquis of ——. We stayed, if I remember correctly, at the "Golden Lion," where, for some reason, we had to spend the next day and night. While walking through the streets in the afternoon, I thought I saw the same young man I had met before at Passy. He was poorly dressed and looked much paler than the last time I saw him. He carried an old suitcase on his arm, having just arrived in town. Still, there was something in his expression that was too friendly to be mistaken, and it immediately reminded me of his features. "Look at that young man," I said to the Marquis; "we should go talk to him."

His joy was beyond expression when, in his turn, he recognised me.

His joy was beyond words when, finally, he recognized me.

"Ah, sir!" he cried, kissing my hand, "I have then once again an opportunity of testifying my eternal gratitude to you!" I enquired of him whence he came. He replied, that he had just arrived, by sea, from Havre, where he had lately landed from America. "You do not seem to be too well off for money," said I to him; "go on to the 'Golden Lion,' where I am lodging; I will join you in a moment."

"Ah, sir!" he exclaimed, kissing my hand, "I have another chance to show you my eternal gratitude!" I asked him where he came from. He replied that he had just arrived by sea from Havre, where he had recently landed from America. "You don't seem to have much money," I said to him; "head over to the 'Golden Lion,' where I'm staying; I'll join you in a moment."

I returned, in fact, full of impatience to learn the details of his misfortunes, and the circumstances of his voyage to America. I gave him a thousand welcomes, and ordered that they should supply him with everything he wanted. He did not wait to be solicited for the history of his life. "Sir," said he to me, "your conduct is so generous, that I should consider it base ingratitude to maintain any reserve towards you. You shall learn not only my misfortunes and sufferings, but my faults and most culpable weaknesses. I am sure that, even while you blame me, you will not refuse me your sympathy."

I came back, eager to hear all about his troubles and the details of his journey to America. I welcomed him warmly and instructed everyone to provide him with whatever he needed. He didn’t wait for me to ask about his life story. “Sir,” he said to me, “your generosity is so remarkable that it would be ungrateful for me to hold anything back from you. You will hear not only about my hardships and suffering but also about my faults and my deepest weaknesses. I’m sure that even while you criticize me, you won’t deny me your sympathy.”

I should here inform the reader that I wrote down the story almost immediately after hearing it; and he may, therefore, be assured of the correctness and fidelity of the narrative. I use the word fidelity with reference to the substance of reflections and sentiments, which the young man conveyed in the most graceful language. Here, then, is his story, which in its progress I shall not encumber with a single observation that was not his own.

I should let the reader know that I wrote down the story almost right after hearing it, so you can trust the accuracy and truthfulness of the narrative. I use the word truthfulness to refer to the essence of the reflections and feelings that the young man expressed in the most eloquent way. So, here is his story, and as it unfolds, I won’t add any comments that aren’t his own.




II


I loved Ophelia! forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum.
         SHAKESPEARE.

I loved Ophelia! Forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their love,
Match my amount.
         SHAKESPEARE.


"I was seventeen years old, and was finishing my studies at Amiens, whither my parents, who belonged to one of the first families in Picardy, had sent me. I led a life so studious and well regulated, that my masters pointed to me as a model of conduct for the other scholars. Not that I made any extraordinary efforts to acquire this reputation, but my disposition was naturally tractable and tranquil; my inclinations led me to apply to study; and even the natural dislike I felt for vice was placed to my credit as positive proof of virtue. The successful progress of my studies, my birth, and some external advantages of person, made me a general favourite with the inhabitants of the town.

I was seventeen, finishing my studies in Amiens, where my parents, who came from one of the top families in Picardy, had sent me. I lived a life that was so focused and well-organized that my teachers held me up as a model for the other students. It wasn’t that I worked extraordinarily hard to earn this reputation; I was just naturally easygoing and calm. I was inclined to focus on my studies, and even my natural aversion to bad behavior counted as evidence of my good character. The success I had in my studies, my background, and some physical advantages made me a favorite among the townspeople.

"I completed my public exercises with such general approbation, that the bishop of the diocese, who was present, proposed to me to enter the church, where I could not fail, he said, to acquire more distinction than in the Order of Malta, for which my parents had destined me. I was already decorated with the Cross, and called the Chevalier des Grieux. The vacation having arrived, I was preparing to return to my father, who had promised to send me soon to the Academy.

"I finished my public performances to such positive feedback that the bishop of the diocese, who was there, suggested that I join the church, where, he claimed, I would achieve more recognition than in the Order of Malta, which my parents had planned for me. I was already honored with the Cross and referred to as the Chevalier des Grieux. With vacation here, I was getting ready to go back to my dad, who had promised to send me to the Academy soon."

"My only regret on quitting Amiens arose from parting with a friend, some years older than myself, to whom I had always been tenderly attached. We had been brought up together; but from the straitened circumstances of his family, he was intended to take orders, and was to remain after me at Amiens to complete the requisite studies for his sacred calling. He had a thousand good qualities. You will recognise in him the very best during the course of my history, and above all, a zeal and fervour of friendship which surpass the most illustrious examples of antiquity. If I had at that time followed his advice, I should have always continued a discreet and happy man. If I had even taken counsel from his reproaches, when on the brink of that gulf into which my passions afterwards plunged me, I should have been spared the melancholy wreck of both fortune and reputation. But he was doomed to see his friendly admonitions disregarded; nay, even at times repaid by contempt from an ungrateful wretch, who often dared to treat his fraternal conduct as offensive and officious.

My only regret about leaving Amiens was saying goodbye to a friend who was a few years older than me and to whom I had always felt very close. We grew up together, but due to his family's financial situation, he was meant to become a priest and would stay in Amiens after I left to finish his studies for that sacred role. He had countless great qualities. You’ll see the best of him throughout my story, especially his passion and loyalty in friendship that surpass even the most famous examples from history. If I had followed his advice at that time, I would have remained a respectful and happy man. If I had even listened to his criticisms when I was on the verge of the destructive path my passions later led me down, I could have avoided the sad downfall of both my fortune and reputation. But he had to witness his kind warnings being ignored, and even sometimes met with disdain from an ungrateful person who often dared to view his brotherly concern as intrusive and annoying.

"I had fixed the day for my departure from Amiens. Alas! that I had not fixed it one day sooner! I should then have carried to my father's house my innocence untarnished.

"I had set the date for my departure from Amiens. Unfortunately! If only I had set it one day earlier! I would have then brought my unblemished innocence to my father's house."

"The very evening before my expected departure, as I was walking with my friend, whose name was Tiberge, we saw the Arras diligence arrive, and sauntered after it to the inn, at which these coaches stop. We had no other motive than curiosity. Some worn men alighted, and immediately retired into the inn. One remained behind: she was very young, and stood by herself in the court, while a man of advanced age, who appeared to have charge of her, was busy in getting her luggage from the vehicle. She struck me as being so extremely beautiful, that I, who had never before thought of the difference between the sexes, or looked on woman with the slightest attention—I, whose conduct had been hitherto the theme of universal admiration, felt myself, on the instant, deprived of my reason and self-control. I had been always excessively timid, and easily disconcerted; but now, instead of meeting with any impediment from this weakness, I advanced without the slightest reserve towards her, who had thus become, in a moment, the mistress of my heart.

The very evening before my expected departure, as I was walking with my friend, Tiberge, we saw the Arras coach arrive and casually followed it to the inn where these coaches stop. We were purely curious. Some tired men got off and immediately went inside the inn. One person stayed behind: she was very young and stood by herself in the courtyard while an older man, who seemed to be in charge of her, was busy getting her luggage from the vehicle. I found her incredibly beautiful, and in that moment, I, who had never really thought about the differences between genders or paid any attention to women—I, whose behavior had always been admired—felt completely lost and out of control. I had always been extremely shy and easily flustered, but now, instead of being hindered by this weakness, I approached her without any hesitation, and she instantly became the ruler of my heart.

"Although younger than myself, she received my civilities without embarrassment. I asked the cause of her journey to Amiens, and whether she had any acquaintances in the town. She ingenuously told me that she had been sent there by her parents, to commence her novitiate for taking the veil. Love had so quickened my perception, even in the short moment it had been enthroned, that I saw in this announcement a death-blow to my hopes. I spoke to her in a way that made her at once understand what was passing in my mind; for she had more experience than myself. It was against her consent that she was consigned to a convent, doubtless to repress that inclination for pleasure which had already become too manifest, and which caused, in the sequel, all her misfortunes and mine. I combated the cruel intention of her parents with all the arguments that my new-born passion and schoolboy eloquence could suggest. She affected neither austerity nor reserve. She told me, after a moment's silence, that she foresaw too clearly, what her unhappy fate must be; but that it was, apparently, the will of Heaven, since there were no means left her to avert it. The sweetness of her look, the air of sorrow with which she pronounced these words, or rather perhaps the controlling destiny which led me on to ruin, allowed me not an instant to weigh my answer. I assured her that if she would place reliance on my honour, and on the tender interest with which she had already inspired me, I would sacrifice my life to deliver her from the tyranny of her parents, and to render her happy. I have since been a thousand times astonished in reflecting upon it, to think how I could have expressed myself with so much boldness and facility; but love could never have become a divinity, if he had not often worked miracles.

"Though she was younger than me, she accepted my polite gestures without feeling awkward. I asked why she was traveling to Amiens and if she knew anyone there. She honestly told me that her parents had sent her to start her training for taking the veil. Love had sharpened my senses so quickly, even in that brief moment it had taken hold, that I realized this news was a fatal blow to my hopes. I spoke to her in a way that made her understand what I was feeling, as she had more experience than I did. She was being sent to a convent against her will, probably to suppress her obvious desire for pleasure, which later brought both her and me a lot of misfortune. I argued against her parents' harsh intentions with all the passion and youthful eloquence my newly awakened feelings could inspire. She didn't act rigid or reserved. After a brief silence, she told me she could see too clearly what her unfortunate fate would be; but it seemed to be the will of Heaven, as there was nothing she could do to change it. The sweetness in her gaze, the sorrowful tone as she spoke those words, or perhaps the fate that was leading me toward ruin, left me no time to think about my response. I assured her that if she would trust my honor and the deep feelings she had already inspired in me, I would give my life to free her from her parents' oppression and make her happy. Looking back, I've been amazed a thousand times at how I could say such bold and fluid words; but love could never have become a god if it hadn’t performed miracles often."

"I made many other pressing and tender speeches; and my unknown fair one was perfectly aware that mine was not the age for deceit. She confessed to me that if I could see but a reasonable hope of being able to effect her enfranchisement, she should deem herself indebted for my kindness in more than life itself could pay. I repeated that I was ready to attempt anything in her behalf; but, not having sufficient experience at once to imagine any reasonable plan of serving her, I did not go beyond this general assurance, from which indeed little good could arise either to her or to myself. Her old guardian having by this time joined us, my hopes would have been blighted, but that she had tact enough to make amends for my stupidity. I was surprised, on his approaching us, to hear her call me her cousin, and say, without being in the slightest degree disconcerted, that as she had been so fortunate as to fall in with me at Amiens, she would not go into the convent until the next morning, in order to have the pleasure of meeting me at supper. Innocent as I was, I at once comprehended the meaning of this ruse; and proposed that she should lodge for the night at the house of an innkeeper, who, after being many years my father's coachman, had lately established himself at Amiens, and who was sincerely attached to me.

"I gave many heartfelt and urgent speeches; and my unknown lady was completely aware that this was not a time for deceit. She told me that if I could see even a glimmer of hope for her freedom, she would feel more grateful for my kindness than anything life could repay. I assured her that I was willing to do anything for her, but lacking enough experience to come up with a practical plan to help her, I couldn't go beyond this vague promise, which wouldn't benefit either of us much. By the time her old guardian joined us, my hopes might have been dashed, but she had the smarts to compensate for my cluelessness. I was surprised when she called me her cousin as he approached us and, without a hint of embarrassment, said that since she was lucky to meet me in Amiens, she wouldn't go to the convent until the next morning, so she could enjoy dinner with me. Naive as I was, I immediately understood the cleverness of this ploy and suggested that she stay for the night at an inn owned by a former coachman of my father's, who had just set up in Amiens and was genuinely loyal to me."

"I conducted her there myself, at which the old Argus appeared to grumble a little; and my friend Tiberge, who was puzzled by the whole scene, followed, without uttering a word. He had not heard our conversation, having walked up and down the court while I was talking of love to my angelic mistress. As I had some doubts of his discretion, I got rid of him, by begging that he would execute a commission for me. I had thus the happiness, on arriving at the inn, of entertaining alone the sovereign of my heart.

"I took her there myself, which made the old Argus grumble a bit; and my friend Tiberge, who was confused by the whole scene, followed along without saying a word. He hadn’t heard our conversation, as he had been pacing the courtyard while I was talking about love to my angelic mistress. Since I had some doubts about his discretion, I sent him away by asking him to run an errand for me. This way, when I arrived at the inn, I had the joy of spending time alone with the ruler of my heart."

"I soon learned that I was less a child than I had before imagined. My heart expanded to a thousand sentiments of pleasure, of which I had not before the remotest idea. A delicious consciousness of enjoyment diffused itself through my whole mind and soul. I sank into a kind of ecstasy, which deprived me for a time of the power of utterance, and which found vent only in a flood of tears.

"I soon realized that I was less of a child than I had previously thought. My heart swelled with a thousand feelings of joy, of which I had no idea before. A delightful sense of enjoyment filled my entire mind and soul. I fell into a sort of ecstasy that left me momentarily speechless, expressing itself only through a stream of tears."

"Manon Lescaut (this she told me was her name) seemed gratified by the visible effect of her own charms. She appeared to me not less excited than myself. She acknowledged that she was greatly pleased with me, and that she should be enchanted to owe to me her freedom and future happiness. She would insist on hearing who I was, and the knowledge only augmented her affection; for, being herself of humble birth, she was flattered by securing for her lover a man of family.

"Manon Lescaut (that’s what she told me her name was) seemed pleased by the obvious impact of her own charms. She looked just as excited as I was. She admitted that she was really happy with me and that she would be thrilled to owe her freedom and future happiness to me. She insisted on knowing who I was, and learning more only deepened her feelings for me; because, coming from a humble background herself, she was flattered to have a man of good standing as her lover."

"After many reflections we could discover no other resource than in flight. To effect this it would be requisite to cheat the vigilance of Manon's guardian, who required management, although he was but a servant. We determined, therefore, that, during the night, I should procure a post-chaise, and return with it at break of day to the inn, before he was awake; that we should steal away quietly, and go straight to Paris, where we might be married on our arrival. I had about fifty crowns in my pocket, the fruit of my little savings at school; and she had about twice as much. We imagined, like inexperienced children, that such a sum could never be exhausted, and we counted, with equal confidence, upon the success of our other schemes.

"After thinking it over, we realized that our only option was to run away. To make this happen, we needed to outsmart Manon’s guardian, who, despite being just a servant, was quite watchful. So, we decided that I would get a carriage during the night and return to the inn at dawn before he woke up. We would slip away quietly and head straight to Paris, where we could get married as soon as we arrived. I had about fifty crowns saved up from my time at school, and she had about twice that amount. Like naive kids, we thought that kind of money would be more than enough, and we were just as confident that our other plans would work out too."

"After having supped, with certainly more satisfaction than I had ever before experienced, I retired to prepare for our project. All my arrangements were the more easy, because, for the purpose of returning on the morrow to my father's, my luggage had been already packed. I had, therefore, no difficulty in removing my trunk, and having a chaise prepared for five o'clock in the morning, at which hour the gates of the town would be opened; but I encountered an obstacle which I was little prepared for, and which nearly upset all my plans.

"After having dinner, with definitely more satisfaction than I'd ever felt before, I went to get ready for our project. It was easier to arrange everything since my luggage had already been packed for my return to my father's the next day. So, I had no trouble getting my trunk ready and arranging for a carriage at five in the morning when the town gates would open. However, I ran into an obstacle I wasn't expecting, which almost derailed all my plans."

"Tiberge, although only three years older than myself, was a youth of unusually strong mind, and of the best regulated conduct. He loved me with singular affection. The sight of so lovely a girl as Manon, my ill-disguised impatience to conduct her to the inn, and the anxiety I betrayed to get rid of him, had excited in his mind some suspicions of my passion. He had not ventured to return to the inn where he had left me, for fear of my being annoyed at his doing so; but went to wait for me at my lodgings, where, although it was ten o'clock at night, I found him on my arrival. His presence annoyed me, and he soon perceived the restraint which it imposed. 'I am certain,' he said to me, without any disguise, 'that you have some plan in contemplation which you will not confide to me; I see it by your manner.' I answered him rather abruptly, that I was not bound to render him an account of all my movements. 'Certainly not!' he replied; 'but you have always, hitherto, treated me as a friend, and that appellation implies a certain degree of confidence and candour.' He pressed me so much and so earnestly to discover my secret, that, having never up to that moment felt the slightest reserve towards him, I confided to him now the whole history of my passion. He heard it with an appearance of disapprobation, which made me tremble; and I immediately repented of my indiscretion, in telling him of my intended elopement. He told me he was too sincerely my friend not to oppose every obstacle in his power to such a scheme; that he would first try all other means of turning me from such a purpose, but that if I refused to renounce so fatal a resolution, he assuredly would inform some persons of my intention, who would be able to defeat it. He held forth upon the subject for a full quarter of an hour, in the most serious tone, and ended by again threatening to inform against me, if I did not pledge him my word that I would return to the paths of discretion and reason.

Tiberge, even though he was only three years older than me, was a guy with a remarkably strong mind and great self-control. He cared for me with a unique kind of love. The sight of the beautiful Manon, my obvious impatience to take her to the inn, and my anxiety to get rid of him made him suspicious about my feelings. He hadn’t dared to go back to the inn where he’d left me, fearing I’d be upset if he did; instead, he waited for me at my place. When I arrived at my lodging at ten o’clock at night, he was already there. His presence irritated me, and he quickly sensed the tension it created. “I’m sure,” he said straightforwardly, “that you have some plan that you’re not telling me about; I can tell by your behavior.” I responded a bit abruptly that I wasn’t obligated to explain all my actions to him. “Of course not!” he replied, “but you’ve always treated me like a friend, and that means a certain level of trust and openness.” He pressed me so much and so earnestly to share my secret that, having never felt the slightest hesitation towards him before, I ended up telling him the entire story of my passion. He listened with an expression of disapproval that made me uneasy, and I immediately regretted my indiscretion in revealing my plan to run away. He told me he valued our friendship too much not to do everything he could to stop such a scheme; he would first try other ways to change my mind, but if I refused to abandon this dangerous resolve, he would definitely let some people know about my intention, who could actually put a stop to it. He talked about it seriously for over fifteen minutes and finished by threatening to expose me if I didn’t promise him that I would return to a more reasonable and sensible way of thinking.

"I was in despair at having so awkwardly betrayed myself. However, love having wonderfully sharpened my intellect during the last two or three hours, I recollected that I had not yet told him of its being my intention to execute my project on the following morning, and I at once determined to deceive him by a little equivocation.

"I felt hopeless for having so clumsily betrayed myself. However, love, having greatly sharpened my mind over the last couple of hours, made me realize that I hadn't yet told him that I planned to carry out my project the next morning, and I quickly decided to mislead him with a bit of ambiguity."

"'Tiberge,' said I to him, 'up to the present moment I thought you were my friend; and I wished to prove it by the test of confidence. It is true, I am in love; I have not deceived you: but with regard to my flight, that is a project not to be undertaken without deliberation. Call for me tomorrow at nine o'clock: you shall see my mistress, if it be possible, and then judge whether she is not worthy of any risk or sacrifice on my part.' He left me, with a thousand protestations of friendship.

"Tiberge," I said to him, "until now I thought you were my friend, and I wanted to show that by trusting you. It's true, I'm in love; I haven't lied to you about that. But about my escape, that's a plan that needs careful thought. Come see me tomorrow at nine o'clock: I'll show you my mistress, if possible, and then you can decide if she's not worth any risk or sacrifice from me." He left, making a thousand promises of friendship.

"I employed the night in preparing for the journey, and on repairing to the inn at early dawn, I found Manon waiting my arrival. She was at her window, which looked upon the street, and perceiving my approach, she came down and opened the door herself. We took our departure silently, and without creating the least alarm. She merely brought away a small portion of her apparel, of which I took charge. The chaise was in readiness, and we were soon at a distance from the town.

"I spent the night getting ready for the journey, and when I went to the inn at dawn, I found Manon waiting for me. She was at her window, which faced the street, and when she saw me coming, she came down and opened the door herself. We left quietly, without causing any alarm. She only took a small amount of her clothes, which I carried. The carriage was ready, and we quickly made our way out of town."

"You will learn in the sequel what was the conduct of Tiberge when he discovered that I had deceived him; that his zeal to serve me suffered no diminution; and you will observe to what lengths his devotion carried him. How ought I to grieve, when I reflect on the base ingratitude with which his affection was always repaid!

"You will find out in the next part how Tiberge reacted when he found out I had lied to him; that his eagerness to help me never faded; and you’ll see how far his loyalty took him. How can I not feel sad when I think about the ugly ingratitude with which I always repaid his love!"

"We made such speed on our journey that before night we reached St. Denis. I rode alongside of the chaise, which gave us little opportunity for conversation, except while changing horses; but when we found ourselves so near Paris, and out of the reach of danger, we allowed ourselves time for refreshment, not having tasted food since we quitted Amiens. Passionately in love as I felt with Manon, she knew how to convince me that she was equally so with me. So little did we restrain our fondness, that we had not even patience to reserve our caresses till we were alone. The postilions and innkeepers stared at us with wonder, and I remarked that they appeared surprised at such uncontrollable love in children of our age.

"We traveled so fast that we reached St. Denis before nightfall. I rode next to the carriage, which didn’t give us much chance to talk, except when we stopped to change horses. But once we got close to Paris and were out of danger, we took a moment to eat, since we hadn't had a meal since leaving Amiens. I was deeply in love with Manon, and she knew how to show me she felt the same way about me. We were so caught up in our affection that we didn’t even wait until we were alone to express it. The postilions and innkeepers stared at us in amazement, and I noticed they seemed surprised by such intense love coming from people our age."

"Our project of marriage was forgotten at St. Denis; we defrauded the Church of her rights; and found ourselves united as man and wife without reflecting on the consequences. It is certain that with my easy and constant disposition, I should have been happy for my whole life, if Manon had remained faithful to me. The more I saw of her, the more I discovered in her new perfections. Her mind, her heart, her gentleness and beauty, formed a chain at once so binding and so agreeable, that I could have found perfect happiness in its enduring influence. Terrible fatality, that which has been the source of my despair, might, under a slight change of circumstances, have constituted my happiness. I find myself the most wretched of mankind, by the force of that very constancy from which I might have fairly expected to derive the most serene of human blisses, and the most perfect recompense of love.

"Our plan to get married was forgotten at St. Denis; we cheated the Church out of its rights and ended up united as husband and wife without thinking about the consequences. It's clear that with my easygoing and constant nature, I would have been happy for my entire life if Manon had stayed true to me. The more I got to know her, the more I uncovered her new qualities. Her mind, her heart, her kindness, and her beauty created a bond that was both so strong and so delightful that I could have found complete happiness in its lasting effect. What a terrible fate it is that has caused my despair; under slightly different circumstances, it could have brought me happiness. I find myself the most miserable person alive because of that very loyalty from which I could have reasonably expected to gain the most peaceful human joy and the greatest reward of love."

"We took a furnished apartment at Paris, in the Rue V——, and, as it afterwards turned out, to my sorrow, close to the house of M. de B——, the famous Fermier-general. Three weeks passed, during which I was so absorbed in my passion, that I never gave a thought to my family, nor dreamed of the distress which my father probably felt at my absence. However, as there was yet nothing of profligacy about me, and as Manon conducted herself with the strictest propriety, the tranquil life we led served to restore me by degrees to a sense of duty.

"We rented a furnished apartment in Paris, on Rue V——, and, as it later turned out to my regret, it was close to the home of M. de B——, the well-known Fermier-general. Three weeks went by, during which I was so caught up in my passion that I didn’t think about my family at all, nor did I consider the worry my father must have felt about my absence. However, since I was still behaving properly, and Manon conducted herself with the utmost decorum, the calm life we led gradually helped me regain a sense of responsibility."

"I resolved to effect, if possible, a reconciliation with my parent. My mistress was to me so perfectly lovable, that I could not doubt her power of captivating my father, if I could only find the means of making him acquainted with her good conduct and merit. In a word, I relied on obtaining his consent to our marriage, having given up all idea of accomplishing it without his approval. I mentioned the project to Manon, and explained to her that, besides every motive of filial love and duty, the weightier one of necessity should also have some influence; for our finances were sadly reduced, and I began to see the folly of thinking them, as I once did, inexhaustible.

"I decided to try, if I could, to make amends with my parent. My mistress was so completely lovable to me that I couldn’t doubt her ability to win over my father if I could just find a way to show him her good character and worth. In short, I was counting on getting his approval for our marriage, having given up any thought of achieving it without his blessing. I shared this plan with Manon and explained to her that, beyond my feelings of love and duty as a son, the stronger reason of necessity should also play a role; our finances were in a terrible state, and I was starting to realize how foolish I had been to think they were, as I once did, endless."

"Manon received the proposition with considerable coldness. However, the difficulties she made, being apparently the suggestions of tenderness alone, or as arising from the natural fear of losing me, if my father, after learning our address, should refuse his assent to our union, I had not the smallest suspicion of the cruel blow she was at the very time preparing to inflict. As to the argument of necessity, she replied that we had still abundant means of living for some weeks longer, and that she would then find a resource in the kindness of some relations in the country, to whom she should write. She tempered her opposition by caresses so tender and impassioned, that I, who lived only for her, and who never had the slightest misgiving as to her love, applauded at once her arguments and her resolutions.

Manon responded to the proposal with noticeable indifference. However, the difficulties she raised seemed to stem only from feelings of affection or from her natural fear of losing me if my father, after finding out where we were, refused to approve our union. I had no idea that she was secretly planning to deliver a painful blow. As for the necessity argument, she said that we still had enough resources to live comfortably for several more weeks, and afterward, she would reach out to some relatives in the countryside, who could help us. She softened her opposition with such tender and passionate affection that I, who lived only for her and never doubted her love, immediately supported her arguments and her decisions.

"To Manon I had committed the care of our finances, and the house-hold arrangements. In a short time, I observed that our style of living was improved, and that she had treated herself to more expensive dresses. As I calculated that we could hardly have at this period more than fifteen or twenty crowns remaining, I did not conceal my surprise at this mysterious augmentation of our wealth. She begged of me, with a smile, to give myself no trouble on that head. 'Did I not promise you,' said she, 'that I would find resources?' I loved her too purely to experience the slightest suspicion.

"Manon was in charge of our finances and household arrangements. Before long, I noticed that our lifestyle had improved and she had splurged on pricier dresses. Since I figured we could hardly have more than fifteen or twenty crowns left at that time, I couldn’t hide my surprise at this sudden boost in our wealth. She smiled and urged me not to worry about it. 'Didn’t I promise you,’ she said, ‘that I would find resources?’ I loved her too genuinely to feel even a hint of suspicion."

"One day, having gone out in the afternoon, and told her that I should not be at home so early as usual, I was astonished, on my return, at being detained several minutes at the door. Our only servant was a young girl about our own age. On her letting me in at last, I asked why she had detained me so long? She replied in an embarrassed tone, that she did not hear me knock. 'I only knocked once,' said I; 'so if you did not hear me, why come to open the door at all?' This query disconcerted her so visibly, that losing her presence of mind, she began to cry, assuring me that it was not her fault; and that her mistress had desired her not to open the door until M. de B—— had had time to go down by the back staircase. I was so confounded by this information as to be utterly unable to proceed to our apartment; and was obliged to leave the house, under the pretext of an appointment. I desired the girl, therefore, to let her mistress know that I should return in a few minutes, but on no account to say that she had spoken to me of M. de B——.

One afternoon, I went out and told her I wouldn’t be home as early as usual. When I got back, I was surprised to be kept waiting several minutes at the door. Our only servant was a young girl around our age. When she finally let me in, I asked her why she had made me wait so long. She answered, sounding embarrassed, that she hadn’t heard me knock. “I only knocked once,” I said. “If you didn’t hear me, then why did you come to open the door at all?” My question seemed to fluster her so much that she lost her composure and started to cry, insisting it wasn’t her fault and that her mistress had told her not to open the door until M. de B—— had had time to go down the back staircase. I was so taken aback by this news that I couldn’t go to our apartment and had to leave the house, pretending I had an appointment. So, I asked the girl to let her mistress know I’d be back in a few minutes, but under no circumstances to mention that she had talked to me about M. de B——.

"My horror was so great, that I shed tears as I went along, hardly knowing from what feeling they flowed. I entered a coffee-house close by, and placing myself at a table, I buried my face between my hands, as though I would turn my eyes inward to ascertain what was passing in my heart. Still, I dared not recall what I had heard the moment before. I strove to look upon it as a dream; and was more than once on the point of returning to my lodgings, determined to attach no importance to what I had heard.

My fear was so intense that I cried as I walked, barely aware of why the tears were flowing. I went into a nearby coffee shop and sat down at a table, burying my face in my hands as if I could look inside myself to figure out what I was feeling. Yet, I still didn’t dare think back on what I had just heard. I tried to convince myself it was just a dream and found myself almost ready to go back home, deciding not to give any weight to what I had just learned.

"It appeared to me so impossible that Manon could have been unfaithful, that I feared even to wrong her by a suspicion. I adored her—that was too certain; I had not on my part given her more proofs of my love than I had received of hers; why then should I charge her with being less sincere and constant than myself? What reason could she have to deceive me? Not three hours before, she had lavished upon me the most tender caresses, and had received mine with transport: I knew her heart as thoroughly as my own. 'No, no!' I said, 'it is not possible that Manon can have deceived me. She well knows that I live but for her; that I adore her: upon that point I can have no reason to be unhappy.'

"It seemed impossible to me that Manon could have been unfaithful, and I was afraid to even suspect her of it. I adored her—that was certain; I hadn’t given her more proof of my love than I had received from her. So why should I accuse her of being less sincere and devoted than I was? What reason would she have to deceive me? Not three hours earlier, she had showered me with the most affectionate embraces and welcomed mine with joy: I knew her heart as well as I knew my own. 'No, no!' I said, 'there's no way Manon could have betrayed me. She knows that I live only for her and that I adore her; in that regard, I have no reason to feel unhappy.'"

"Notwithstanding these reflections, the visit of M. de B——, and his secret departure, gave me some uneasiness. I remembered, too, the little purchases she had lately made, which seemed beyond our present means. This looked like the liberality of a new lover. And the confidence with which she had foretold resources which were to me unknown? I had some difficulty in solving these mysteries in as favourable a manner as my heart desired.

"Despite these thoughts, M. de B——’s visit and his sudden departure made me uneasy. I also recalled the small purchases she had made recently, which seemed beyond what we could afford right now. It felt like the generosity of a new lover. And what about her confidence in predicting resources I knew nothing about? I found it hard to unravel these mysteries as positively as I wished my heart would allow."

"On the other hand, she had been hardly out of my sight since we entered Paris. However occupied, in our walks, in all our amusements, she was ever at my side. Heavens! even a momentary separation would have been too painful. I could not therefore imagine how Manon could, to any other person, have devoted a single instant.

"On the other hand, she had barely left my sight since we got to Paris. No matter what we were doing, whether we were walking or having fun, she was always by my side. Honestly! Even a brief separation would have been too painful. So, I couldn't understand how Manon could have given a single moment to anyone else."

"At last I thought I had discovered a clue to the mystery. 'M. de B——' said I to myself, 'is a man extensively engaged in commercial affairs; and Manon's relations have no doubt remitted her money through his house. She has probably already received some from him, and he is come today to bring her more. She wishes, perhaps, to derive amusement by and by, from an agreeable surprise, by keeping me at present in the dark. She would doubtless have at once told me all, if I had gone in as usual, instead of coming here to distress myself: at all events, she will not conceal it from me when I broach the subject myself.'

"Finally, I thought I had found a clue to the mystery. 'M. de B——,' I told myself, 'is a man deeply involved in business. Manon's relatives must have sent her money through his company. She has probably already received some from him, and he has come today to bring her more. She might want to create a pleasant surprise for me later by keeping me in the dark for now. She would definitely have told me everything right away if I had just walked in like usual instead of coming here to worry myself: in any case, she won't keep it from me when I bring it up myself.'"

"I cherished this idea so willingly, that it considerably lightened my grief. I immediately returned to my lodgings, and embraced Manon as tenderly as ever. She received me as usual. At first I was tempted to mention my conjectures, which I now, more than ever, looked upon as certain; but I restrained myself in the hope that she might render it unnecessary by informing me of all that had passed.

"I held onto this idea so strongly that it eased my sadness significantly. I went back to my place and hugged Manon as affectionately as always. She welcomed me as she usually did. At first, I felt like bringing up my thoughts, which I now saw as certain; but I held back, hoping that she would tell me everything that had happened."

"Supper was served. Assuming an air of gaiety, I took my seat at table; but by the light of the candles which were between us, I fancied I perceived an air of melancholy about the eyes and countenance of my beloved mistress. The very thought soon damped my gaiety. I remarked that her looks wore an unusual expression, and although nothing could be more soft or languishing, I was at a loss to discover whether they conveyed more of love than of compassion. I gazed at her with equal earnestness, and she perhaps had no less difficulty in comprehending from my countenance what was passing in my heart. We neither spoke nor ate. At length I saw tears starting from her beauteous eyes—perfidious tears! 'Oh heavens!' I cried, 'my dearest Manon, why allow your sorrows to afflict you to this degree without imparting their cause to me?' She answered me only with sighs, which increased my misery. I arose trembling from my seat: I conjured her, with all the urgent earnestness of love, to let me know the cause of her grief: I wept in endeavouring to soothe her sorrows: I was more dead than alive. A barbarian would have pitied my sufferings as I stood trembling with grief and apprehension.

Supper was served. With a cheerful demeanor, I took my seat at the table; but in the candlelight between us, I thought I saw a sadness in the eyes and face of my beloved mistress. Just the thought of it dampened my mood. I noticed that her expression was unusual, and even though it was soft and longing, I couldn't tell if it showed more love than compassion. I looked at her intently, and she probably found it just as hard to understand what was going on in my heart from my face. We didn’t speak or eat. Eventually, I saw tears welling up in her beautiful eyes—betraying tears! "Oh heavens!" I exclaimed, "my dearest Manon, why let your sorrow weigh you down like this without telling me why?" She only answered with sighs, which made my misery worse. I stood up trembling from my seat and pleaded with all the urgency of love to let me know the reason for her sadness: I cried as I tried to comfort her pain. I felt more dead than alive. Even a barbarian would have felt pity for my suffering as I stood there shaking with grief and worry.

"While my attention was thus confined to her, I heard people coming upstairs. They tapped gently at the door. Manon gave me a kiss, and escaping from my arms, quickly entered the boudoir, turning the key after her. I imagined that, not being dressed to receive strangers, she was unwilling to meet the persons who had knocked; I went to let them in.

"While I was focused on her, I heard people coming upstairs. They knocked softly at the door. Manon kissed me, and slipping out of my arms, quickly went into the boudoir, locking the door behind her. I figured she didn't want to meet the guests since she wasn't dressed to see anyone, so I went to let them in."

"I had hardly opened the door, when I found myself seized by three men, whom I recognised as my father's servants. They offered not the least violence, but two of them taking me by the arms, the third examined my pockets, and took out a small knife, the only weapon I had about me. They begged pardon for the necessity they were under of treating me with apparent disrespect; telling me frankly that they were acting by the orders of my father, and that my eldest brother was in a carriage below waiting to receive me. My feelings were so overpowered, that I allowed myself to be led away without making either reply or resistance. I found my brother waiting for me as they had stated. They placed me by his side, and the coachman immediately drove, by his orders, towards St. Denis.

"I had barely opened the door when three men grabbed me, and I recognized them as my father's servants. They didn't use any force, but two of them took me by the arms while the third checked my pockets and took out a small knife, the only weapon I had on me. They apologized for the way they had to treat me and explained that they were following my father's orders, and that my older brother was waiting for me in a carriage below. I was so overwhelmed that I let them lead me away without saying a word or resisting. I found my brother waiting for me, just as they said. They sat me next to him, and the driver immediately took us, per his orders, toward St. Denis."

"My brother embraced me most affectionately, but during our ride, he uttered not a word, so that, as I was not inclined for conversation, I had as much leisure as I could desire to reflect upon my misfortunes."

"My brother hugged me tightly, but during our ride, he didn't say a word, so since I wasn’t really in the mood for chatting, I had all the time I wanted to think about my troubles."




III


That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites.
         SHAKESPEARE.

That we can claim these delicate creatures as ours,
And not just their appetites.
         SHAKESPEARE.


"The whole affair was so involved in obscurity that I could not see my way even to a reasonable conjecture. I was cruelly betrayed—that was certain; but by whom? Tiberge first occurred to me. 'Tiberge!' said I, 'it is as much as thy life is worth, if my suspicions turn out to be well founded.' However, I recollected that he could not by possibility know my abode; and therefore, he could not have furnished the information. To accuse Manon was more than my heart was capable of. The unusual melancholy with which she had lately seemed weighed down, her tears, the tender kiss she gave me in parting, made it all as yet a mystery to me. I could only look upon her recent melancholy as a presentiment of our common misfortune; and while I was deploring the event which tore me from her, I was credulous enough to consider her fate as much deserving of pity as my own.

The whole situation was so shrouded in mystery that I couldn't even form a reasonable guess. I was definitely betrayed—that much was clear; but by whom? Tiberge popped into my mind first. "Tiberge!" I said, "It’s as good as your life if my suspicions turn out to be right." However, I remembered that there was no way he could know where I lived, so he couldn't have given out that information. Accusing Manon was more than I could handle. The unusual sadness she had been showing lately, her tears, and the gentle kiss she gave me when we parted left me bewildered. I could only view her recent sadness as a sign of our shared misfortune; and while I mourned the event that separated us, I was naive enough to think her fate deserved as much pity as mine.

"The result of my reflections was, that I had been seen and followed in the streets of Paris by some persons of my acquaintance, who had conveyed the information to my father. This idea comforted me. I made up my mind to encounter some reproaches, or perhaps harsh treatment, for having outraged the paternal authority. I resolved, however, to suffer with patience, and to promise all that might be required of me, in order to facilitate my speedy return to Paris, that I might restore life and happiness to my dear Manon.

"The result of my thoughts was that I had been spotted and followed through the streets of Paris by some people I knew, who had informed my father. This idea gave me some comfort. I prepared myself to face some criticism or maybe even tough treatment for defying my father’s authority. However, I decided to endure it patiently and to agree to whatever was asked of me to help me get back to Paris quickly so I could bring life and happiness back to my dear Manon."

"We soon arrived at St. Denis. My brother, surprised at my long silence, thought it the effect of fear. He assured me that I had nothing to apprehend from my father's severity, provided I showed a disposition to return quietly to the path of duty, and prove myself worthy of his affection. He made me pass the night at St. Denis, merely taking the precaution of putting the three lackeys to sleep in my room. It cost me a pang to find myself in the same inn where I had stopped with Manon on our way from Amiens to Paris. The innkeeper and his servants recognised me, and guessed at once the truth of my history. I overheard them say, 'Ah! that's the handsome young gentleman who travelled this road about a month ago, with the beautiful girl he appeared so much in love with! How pretty she was! The poor young things, how they caressed each other! Pity if they have been separated!' I pretended not to hear, and kept as much out of sight as possible.

"We soon arrived at St. Denis. My brother, surprised by my long silence, thought it was due to fear. He assured me that I had nothing to worry about concerning our father's anger, as long as I showed a willingness to return to the right path and prove myself deserving of his love. He made me stay the night at St. Denis, just taking the precaution of having the three servants sleep in my room. It hurt to be in the same inn where I had stayed with Manon on our journey from Amiens to Paris. The innkeeper and his staff recognized me and immediately figured out the truth about my story. I overheard them saying, 'Ah! that’s the handsome young guy who traveled this road about a month ago with the beautiful girl he seemed so in love with! How pretty she was! Those poor young things, how they adored each other! It’s a shame if they’ve been separated!' I pretended not to hear and kept out of sight as much as I could."

"At St. Denis my brother had a chariot waiting for us, in which we started early the next morning, and arrived at home before night.

"At St. Denis, my brother had a carriage ready for us, and we set off early the next morning, arriving home before nightfall."

"He saw my father first, in order to make a favourable impression by telling him how quietly I had allowed myself to be brought away, so that his reception of me was less austere than I had expected. He merely rebuked me in general terms for the offence I had committed, by absenting myself without his permission. As for my mistress, he said I richly deserved what had happened to me, for abandoning myself to a person utterly unknown; that he had entertained a better opinion of my discretion; but that he hoped this little adventure would make me wiser. I took the whole lecture only in the sense that accorded with my own notions. I thanked my father for his indulgence, and promised that I would in future observe a better regulated and more obedient course of conduct. I felt that I had secured a triumph; for, from the present aspect of affairs, there was no doubt that I should be free to effect my escape from the house even before the night was over.

"He saw my father first to make a good impression by mentioning how calmly I had let myself be taken away, so my reception was less harsh than I had expected. He simply scolded me in general terms for the mistake I made by leaving without his permission. As for my mistress, he said I deserved everything that happened to me for getting involved with someone completely unknown; he had thought I was more sensible, but he hoped this little experience would teach me a lesson. I perceived the entire lecture only in a way that matched my own thoughts. I thanked my father for his understanding and promised to behave better and be more obedient in the future. I felt I had won because, given the current situation, there was no doubt I would be able to escape the house even before the night was over."

"We sat down to supper. They rallied me about my Amiens conquest, and my flight with that paragon of fidelity. I took their jokes in good part, glad enough at being permitted to revolve in my mind the plans I had meditated; but some words which fell from my father made me listen with earnest attention. He spoke of perfidy, and the not disinterested kindness he had received at the hands of M. de B——. I was almost paralysed on hearing the name, and begged of my father to explain himself. He turned to my brother, to ask if he had not told me the whole story. My brother answered, that I appeared to him so tranquil upon the road, that he did not suppose I required this remedy to cure me of my folly. I remarked that my father was doubtful whether he should give me the explanation or not. I entreated him so earnestly that he satisfied me, or I should rather say tortured me, with the following most horrible narration.

"We sat down for dinner. They teased me about my victory in Amiens and my escape with that model of loyalty. I took their jokes in stride, happy enough to think over the plans I had considered; but some remarks from my father made me listen closely. He talked about betrayal and the not-so-selfless help he had received from Mr. de B——. I was nearly frozen in place when I heard the name and asked my father to explain. He turned to my brother, asking if he hadn't told me the whole story. My brother replied that I seemed so calm on the road that he didn’t think I needed this remedy to cure me of my foolishness. I noticed that my father was unsure whether to give me the explanation or not. I urged him so passionately that he ended up sharing a horrifying tale that both satisfied and tormented me."

"He began by asking me whether I was really simple enough to believe that I had been really loved by the girl. I told him confidently that I was perfectly sure of it, and that nothing could make me for a moment doubt it. 'Ha, ha, ha!' said he, with a loud laugh; 'that is excellent! you are a pretty dupe! Admirable idea! 'Twould be a thousand pities, my poor chevalier, to make you a Knight of Malta, with all the requisites you possess for a patient and accommodating husband.' He continued in the same tone to ridicule what he was pleased to call my dullness and credulity.

"He started off by asking me if I was really naive enough to think that the girl had truly loved me. I confidently told him that I was absolutely sure of it and that nothing could make me doubt it, even for a moment. 'Ha, ha, ha!' he laughed loudly; 'that’s hilarious! You’re quite the fool! What a great idea! It would be such a shame, my poor knight, to make you a Knight of Malta, given all the qualities you have to be a patient and easygoing husband.' He kept mocking what he liked to call my cluelessness and gullibility.

"He concluded, while I maintained a profound silence, by saying that, according to the nicest calculation he could make of the time since my departure from Amiens, Manon must have been in love with me about twelve days; 'for,' said he, 'I know that you left Amiens on the 28th of last month; this is, the 29th of the present; it is eleven days since M. de B—— wrote to me; I suppose he required eight days to establish a perfect understanding with your mistress; so that, take eight and eleven from thirty-one days, the time between the 28th of one month and the 29th of the next, there remains twelve, more or less!' This joke was followed by shouts of laughter.

"He wrapped up, while I stayed completely silent, by saying that, based on his careful calculation of the time since I left Amiens, Manon must have been in love with me for about twelve days; 'because,' he said, 'I know you left Amiens on the 28th of last month; today is the 29th of this month; it's been eleven days since M. de B—— wrote to me; I assume he needed eight days to get everything sorted out with your mistress; so, if you subtract eight and eleven from the thirty-one days between the 28th of one month and the 29th of the next, you're left with twelve, give or take!' This joke was met with bursts of laughter."

"I heard it all with a kind of sinking of the heart that I thought I could not bear up against, until he finished. 'You must know then,' continued my father, 'since you appear as yet ignorant of it, that M. de B—— has won the affections of your idol; for he can't be serious in pretending that it is his disinterested regard for me that has induced him to take her from you. It would be absurd to expect such noble sentiments from a man of his description, and one, besides, who is a perfect stranger to me. He knew that you were my son, and in order to get rid of you, he wrote to inform me of your abode, and of the life you led; saying, at the same time, that strong measures would be necessary to secure you.

"I listened to it all with a sinking feeling in my heart that I thought I couldn't handle, until he finished. 'You should know then,' my father continued, 'since you seem to be unaware, that M. de B—— has captured the heart of your idol; he can't genuinely claim that his selfless concern for me has motivated him to take her away from you. It would be ridiculous to expect such noble feelings from a man like him, especially since he's a complete stranger to me. He knew you were my son, and to get rid of you, he wrote to tell me where you lived and the kind of life you were leading; he also mentioned that strong measures would be needed to secure you."

"He offered to procure me the means of laying hold of you; and it was by his direction, as well as that of your mistress herself, that your brother hit upon the moment for catching you unawares. Now, you may congratulate yourself upon the duration of your triumph. You know how to conquer, rapid enough; but you have yet to learn how to secure your conquests.'

"He offered to help me find a way to get to you; and it was by his suggestion, as well as your mistress's, that your brother figured out the perfect moment to catch you off guard. Now, you can be proud of how long your victory lasted. You know how to win quickly, but you still need to learn how to hold onto your wins."

"I could no longer endure these remarks, every one of which struck a dagger to my heart. I arose from the table, and had not advanced four steps towards the door, when I fell upon the floor, perfectly senseless. By prompt applications they soon brought me to myself. My eyes opened only to shed a torrent of tears, and my lips to utter the most sorrowful and heartrending complaints. My father, who always loved me most affectionately, tried every means to console me. I listened to him, but his words were without effect. I threw myself at his feet, in the attitude of prayer, conjuring him to let me return to Paris, and destroy the monster B——. 'No!' cried I; 'he has not gained Manon's heart; he may have seduced her by charms, or by drugs; he may have even brutally violated her. Manon loves me. Do I not know that well? He must have terrified her with a poniard, to induce her to abandon me.' What must he not have done to have robbed me of my angelic mistress? Oh Heaven! Heaven! can it be possible that Manon deceived me, or that she has ceased to love me!

I couldn't handle those comments any longer, each one felt like a knife to my heart. I got up from the table, and before I had taken four steps towards the door, I collapsed on the floor, completely unconscious. They quickly revived me. When I opened my eyes, I could only cry uncontrollably and express the deepest, most painful complaints. My father, who always loved me dearly, tried everything to comfort me. I heard him, but his words had no impact. I fell at his feet, praying for him to let me go back to Paris and deal with the monster B——. "No!" I cried; "he hasn't truly won Manon's heart; he might have seduced her with charm or through drugs; he might have even violently attacked her. Manon loves me. Don’t I know that? He must have scared her with a knife to make her leave me." What could he have possibly done to take my angelic mistress away from me? Oh Heaven! Heaven! Is it possible that Manon has betrayed me, or that she no longer loves me?

"As I continued to rave about returning at once to Paris, and was perpetually starting up with that purpose, my father clearly saw that while the paroxysm lasted, no arguments could pacify me. He conducted me to one of the upper rooms, and left two servants to keep constant watch over me. I was completely bewildered. I would have given a thousand lives to be but for one quarter of an hour in Paris. I had sense enough, however, to know that having so openly declared my intention, they would not easily allow me to quit my chamber. I looked at the height of the windows. Seeing no possibility of escaping that way, I addressed the servants in the most tranquil tone. I promised, with the most solemn vows, to make at some future day their fortunes, if they would but consent to my escape. I entreated them; I tried caresses, and lastly threats; but all were unavailing. I gave myself up to despair. I resolved to die; and threw myself upon the bed, with a firm determination to quit it only with my life. In this situation I passed the night and the following day. I refused the nourishment that was brought to me next morning.

"As I kept going on about how I needed to get back to Paris immediately, my father realized that during my outburst, no arguments could calm me down. He took me to one of the upper rooms and left two servants to keep a close eye on me. I was completely confused. I would have given anything just to be in Paris for even a short while. However, I was smart enough to know that since I had made my intentions so clear, they wouldn’t easily let me leave my room. I looked at the height of the windows. Seeing that there was no way to escape that way, I spoke to the servants in the calmest tone. I promised, with the most serious vows, to help them become wealthy someday if they would just help me escape. I begged them; I tried being nice, and finally resorted to threats; but nothing worked. I fell into despair. I decided I would rather die; and threw myself on the bed, determined not to get up unless I was dead. In this state, I spent the night and the following day. I refused the food that was brought to me the next morning."

"My father came to see me in the afternoon. He tried in the most affectionate manner, to soothe my grief. He desired me so urgently to take some refreshment, that, to gratify him, I obeyed his wishes. Several days passed, during which I took nothing but in his presence, and at his special request. He continued to furnish new arguments to restore me to my proper senses, and to inspire me with merited contempt for the faithless Manon. I certainly had lost all esteem for her: how could I esteem the most fickle and perfidious of created beings! But her image—those exquisite features, which were engraven on my heart's core, were still uneffaced. I understood my own feelings: 'I may die,' said I, 'and I ought to die after so much shame and grief; but I might suffer a thousand deaths without being able to forget the ingrate Manon.'

"My dad came to see me in the afternoon. He tried his best to comfort me and ease my pain. He insisted so much that I eat something that I finally gave in just to make him happy. Several days went by during which I only ate when he was there and at his specific request. He kept coming up with new reasons to help me regain my senses and to make me feel justifiably angry with the unfaithful Manon. I definitely had lost all respect for her; how could I respect the most untrustworthy and deceitful person? But her image—those beautiful features that were etched into my heart—were still there. I recognized my own feelings: 'I might die,' I thought, 'and I should die after all this shame and sorrow; but I could endure a thousand deaths and still not forget the ungrateful Manon.'"

"My father was surprised at my still continuing so powerfully affected. He knew that I was imbued with the principles of honour; and not doubting that her infidelity must make me despise her, fancied that my obstinacy proceeded less from this particular passion, than from a general inclination towards the sex. This idea so took possession of his mind, that, prompted only by his affection for me, he came one day to reveal his thoughts. 'Chevalier,' said he to me, 'it has been hitherto my intention to make you bear the Cross of Malta: I now see that your inclinations do not bend that way. You are an admirer of beauty. I shall be able to find you a wife to your taste. Let me candidly know how you feel upon the subject.'

"My father was surprised that I was still so deeply affected. He knew I valued honor, and assuming her betrayal would make me despise her, he thought my stubbornness came more from a general attraction to women than from this particular situation. This idea consumed him so much that, driven only by his love for me, he decided to share his thoughts one day. 'Chevalier,' he said to me, 'I had planned to have you take on the Cross of Malta, but I now see that your interests lie elsewhere. You appreciate beauty. I can help you find a wife who fits your taste. Just let me know how you feel about it.'”

"I answered that I could never again see the slightest difference amongst women, and that after the misfortune I had experienced, I detested them all equally. 'I will find you one,' replied my father, smiling, 'who shall resemble Manon in beauty, but who shall be more faithful.' 'Ah! if you have any mercy,' said I, 'you will restore my Manon to me. Be assured, my dear father, that she has not betrayed me; she is incapable of such base and cruel treachery. It is the perfidious B—— who deceives both her and me. If you could form an idea of her tenderness and her sincerity—if you only knew her, you yourself would love her!' 'You are absolutely a child,' replied my father. 'How can you so delude yourself, after what I have told you about her? It was she who actually delivered you up to your brother. You ought to obliterate even her name from your memory, and take advantage, if you are wise, of the indulgence I am showing you.'

"I said that I could never see any difference among women again, and that after what happened to me, I hated them all equally. 'I will find you one,' my father replied with a smile, 'who will be as beautiful as Manon but more faithful.' 'Oh! if you have any mercy,' I said, 'you will bring my Manon back to me. Trust me, dear father, she has not betrayed me; she is incapable of such low and cruel treachery. It’s the deceitful B—— who has fooled both her and me. If you could understand her kindness and her honesty—if you only knew her, you would love her too!' 'You are such a child,' my father replied. 'How can you be so deluded after everything I've told you about her? She was the one who actually turned you over to your brother. You should wipe her name from your memory and take advantage of the kindness I’m showing you, if you’re smart.'”

"I very clearly perceived that my father was right. It was an involuntary emotion that made me thus take part with the traitor. 'Alas!' replied I, after a moment's silence, 'it is but too true that I am the unhappy victim of the vilest perfidy. Yes,' I continued, while shedding tears of anger, 'I too clearly perceive that I am indeed but a child. Credulity like mine was easily gulled; but I shall be at no loss to revenge myself.' My father enquired of me my intentions: 'I will go to Paris,' I said, 'set fire to B——'s house, and immolate him and the perfidious Manon together.' This burst made my father laugh, and had only the effect of causing me to be more vigilantly watched in my cell.

"I clearly saw that my father was right. It was an involuntary feeling that made me side with the traitor. 'Oh no!' I said after a moment of silence, 'it's all too true that I'm the unfortunate victim of the worst betrayal. Yes,' I continued, tears of anger streaming down my face, 'I realize all too well that I’m still just a child. My gullibility was easily taken advantage of, but I won’t have trouble getting my revenge.' My father asked me what I planned to do: 'I will go to Paris,' I said, 'set fire to B——'s house, and make him and the treacherous Manon pay together.' This outburst made my father laugh, and it only resulted in me being watched even more closely in my cell."

"I thus passed six long months; during the first of which my mind underwent little change. My feelings were in a state of perpetual alternation between hate and love; between hope and despair; according as, the tendency of each passing thought brought Manon back to my recollection. At one time, I could see in her the most delightful of women only, and sigh for the pleasure of beholding her once more; at another, I felt she was the most unworthy and perfidious of mistresses, and I would on these occasions swear never again to seek her, but for the purpose of revenge.

I spent six long months this way; during the first month, my mind changed very little. My feelings swung back and forth constantly between love and hate, between hope and despair, depending on how each fleeting thought reminded me of Manon. At times, I could only see her as the most wonderful woman and longed to see her again; at other times, I felt she was the most unworthy and treacherous of lovers, and in those moments, I swore I would never seek her out again, except for revenge.

"I was supplied with books, which served to restore my peace of mind. I read once again all my favourite authors; and I became acquainted with new ones. All my former taste for study was revived. You will see of what use this was to me in the sequel. The light I had already derived from love, enabled me to comprehend many passages in Horace and Virgil which had before appeared obscure. I wrote an amatory commentary upon the fourth book of the AEneid. I intend one day to publish it, and I flatter myself it will be popular.

"I was given books that helped me find my peace of mind again. I reread all my favorite authors and discovered new ones. My love for studying was reignited. You'll see how valuable this was for me later. The insights I gained from love helped me understand many parts of Horace and Virgil that I had previously found confusing. I wrote a romantic commentary on the fourth book of the Aeneid. I plan to publish it one day, and I hope it will be well-received."

"'Alas!' I used to exclaim, 'whilst employed on that work, it was for a heart like mine the faithful Dido sighed, and sighed in vain!'

"'Oh no!' I used to say, 'while working on that piece, it was for a heart like mine that the loyal Dido sighed, and she sighed in vain!'"




IV


Now, by the strange enchantment that surrounds thee,
There's nothing—nothing thou shalt ask in vain.
         ESSEX.

Now, by the strange magic that surrounds you,
There's nothing—nothing you will ask in vain.
         ESSEX.


"While in my confinement Tiberge came one day to see me. I was surprised at the affectionate joy with which he saluted me. I had never, hitherto, observed any peculiar warmth in his friendship that could lead me to look upon it as anything more than the partiality common among boys of the same age. He was so altered, and had grown so manly during the five or six months since I had last seen him, that his expressive features and his manner of addressing me inspired me with a feeling of respect. He spoke more in the character of a mentor than a schoolfellow, lamented the delusion into which I had fallen, congratulated me on my reformation, which he believed was now sincere, and ended by exhorting me to profit by my youthful error, and open my eyes to the vanity of worldly pleasures. I looked at him with some astonishment, which he at once perceived.

"While I was in confinement, Tiberge came to visit me one day. I was surprised by the warm happiness with which he greeted me. Until then, I had never noticed any special depth in his friendship that would make me think of it as anything more than the usual liking among boys my age. He had changed so much and had become so mature in the five or six months since I last saw him that his expressive features and the way he spoke to me gave me a sense of respect. He talked more like a mentor than a schoolmate, lamenting the mistake I had made, congratulating me on my change, which he thought was genuine now, and he finished by urging me to learn from my youthful mistake and to recognize the emptiness of worldly pleasures. I looked at him in surprise, which he quickly noticed."

"'My dear chevalier,' said he to me, 'you shall hear nothing but the strict truth, of which I have assured myself by the most serious examination. I had, perhaps, as strong an inclination for pleasure as you, but Heaven had at the same time, in its mercy, blessed me with a taste for virtue. I exercised my reason in comparing the consequences of the one with those of the other, and the divine aid was graciously vouchsafed to my reflections. I conceived for the world a contempt which nothing can equal. Can you guess what it is retains me in it now,' he added, 'and that prevents me from embracing a life of solitude? Simply the sincere friendship I bear towards you. I know the excellent qualities of both your heart and head. There is no good of which you may not render yourself capable. The blandishments of pleasure have momentarily drawn you aside. What detriment to the sacred cause of virtue! Your flight from Amiens gave me such intense sorrow, that I have not since known a moment's happiness. You may judge of this by the steps it induced me to take.' He then told me how, after discovering that I had deceived him, and gone off with my mistress, he procured horses for the purpose of pursuing me, but having the start of him by four or five hours, he found it impossible to overtake me; that he arrived, however, at St. Denis half an hour after I had left it; that, being very sure that I must have stopped in Paris, he spent six weeks there in a fruitless endeavour to discover me—visiting every place where he thought he should be likely to meet me, and that one evening he at length recognised my mistress at the play, where she was so gorgeously dressed, that he of course set it down to the account of some new lover; that he had followed her equipage to her house, and had there learned from a servant that she was entertained in this style by M. de B——. 'I did not stop here,' continued he; 'I returned next day to the house, to learn from her own lips what had become of you. She turned abruptly away when she heard the mention of your name, and I was obliged to return into the country without further information. I there learned the particulars of your adventure, and the extreme annoyance she had caused you; but I was unwilling to visit you until I could have assurance of your being in a more tranquil state.'

"'My dear friend,' he said to me, 'I will tell you nothing but the absolute truth, which I have confirmed through serious reflection. I had, perhaps, as strong a desire for pleasure as you do, but at the same time, Heaven mercifully blessed me with a taste for virtue. I used my reason to compare the outcomes of one against the other, and divine guidance helped me in my thinking. I developed a contempt for the world like nothing else. Can you guess what’s keeping me in it now,' he added, 'and stopping me from choosing a life of solitude? It’s simply the genuine friendship I have for you. I know the wonderful qualities of both your heart and mind. There’s no good you aren’t capable of achieving. The allure of pleasure has temporarily distracted you. What a loss to the noble cause of virtue! Your departure from Amiens caused me such deep sorrow that I haven't experienced a moment of happiness since. You can imagine this by the actions I felt compelled to take.' He then shared how, after discovering that I had deceived him and left with my mistress, he arranged for horses to chase after me, but since I had a four or five-hour head start, he found it impossible to catch up. However, he arrived at St. Denis half an hour after I had left; being convinced I must have stopped in Paris, he spent six weeks there trying unsuccessfully to find me—visiting every place where he thought I might be, and one evening he finally recognized my mistress at the theater, where she was dressed so lavishly that he naturally assumed it was due to some new lover. He followed her carriage to her house and learned from a servant that M. de B—— was the one treating her this way. 'I didn't stop there,' he continued; 'I returned to the house the next day to hear from her own lips what had happened to you. She turned away sharply when she heard your name, and I had to go back to the countryside without any more information. There, I learned the details of your situation, and the considerable distress she had caused you; but I didn’t want to visit you until I was sure you were in a calmer state.'

"'You have seen Manon then!' cried I, sighing. 'Alas! you are happier than I, who am doomed never again to behold her.' He rebuked me for this sigh, which still showed my weakness for the perfidious girl. He flattered me so adroitly upon the goodness of my mind and disposition, that he really inspired me, even on this first visit, with a strong inclination to renounce, as he had done, the pleasures of the world, and enter at once into holy orders.

"'You've seen Manon then!' I exclaimed, sighing. 'Oh! You're luckier than I am, because I'm doomed to never see her again.' He scolded me for this sigh, which revealed my still lingering feelings for the deceptive girl. He complimented me so skillfully on my intelligence and character that, even on this first visit, he genuinely motivated me to consider giving up the pleasures of the world, just as he had, and to devote myself to religious life right away."

"The idea was so suited to my present frame of mind, that when alone I thought of nothing else. I remembered the words of the Bishop of Amiens, who had given me the same advice, and thought only of the happiness which he predicted would result from my adoption of such a course. Piety itself took part in these suggestions. 'I shall lead a holy and a Christian life,' said I; 'I shall divide my time between study and religion, which will allow me no leisure for the perilous pleasures of love. I shall despise that which men ordinarily admire; and as I am conscious that my heart will desire nothing but what it can esteem, my cares will not be greater or more numerous than my wants and wishes.'

"The idea fit so well with how I was feeling that when I was alone, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I recalled the words of the Bishop of Amiens, who had given me similar advice, and I focused solely on the happiness he said would come from following this path. Even my sense of devotion resonated with these thoughts. 'I will live a holy and Christian life,' I told myself; 'I will split my time between study and faith, leaving me no free time for the risky pleasures of love. I will disregard what most people admire; and since I know my heart will only want what it can value, my worries will be no greater or more numerous than my needs and desires.'”

"I thereupon pictured to myself in anticipation a course of life peaceful and retired. I fancied a retreat embosomed in a wood, with a limpid stream of running water bounding my garden; a library, comprising the most select works; a limited circle of friends, virtuous and intellectual; a table neatly served, but frugal and temperate. To all these agremens I added a literary correspondence with a friend whose residence should be in Paris, who should give me occasional information upon public affairs, less for the gratification of my curiosity, than to afford a kind of relaxation by hearing of and lamenting the busy follies of men. 'Shall not I be happy?' added I; 'will not my utmost wishes be thus gratified?' This project flattered my inclinations extremely. But after all the details of this most admirable and prudent plan, I felt that my heart still yearned for something; and that in order to leave nothing to desire in this most enchanting retirement, one ought to be able to share it with Manon.

I then imagined a peaceful, quiet life. I envisioned a retreat nestled in the woods, with a clear stream flowing around my garden; a library filled with the best books; a small group of good, smart friends; and a simple, well-set table for meals. I also thought about keeping in touch with a friend in Paris, who would update me on current events—not just to satisfy my curiosity, but to provide a break by discussing and lamenting the busy foolishness of people. I asked myself, 'Won't I be happy? Aren't all my wishes going to be fulfilled?' This idea really excited me. But despite having all the details of this wonderful and sensible plan, I still felt that my heart longed for something more; I realized that to truly enjoy this magical retreat, I would need to share it with Manon.

"However, Tiberge continuing to pay me frequent visits in order to strengthen me in the purpose with which he had inspired me, I took an opportunity of opening the subject to my father. He declared that his intention ever was to leave his children free to choose a profession, and that in whatever manner I should dispose of myself, all he wished to reserve was the right of aiding me with his counsel. On this occasion he gave me some of the wisest, which tended less to divert me from my project, than to convince me of my good father's sound judgment and discretion.

However, Tiberge kept visiting me often to encourage me in the goal he had inspired in me, so I took the chance to bring it up with my father. He stated that his intention was always to allow his children the freedom to choose a career, and that no matter how I decided to go about it, all he wanted was the right to offer me his advice. During this conversation, he shared some of the wisest insights, which did more to reinforce my belief in my father's good judgment and wisdom than to sway me from my plan.

"The recommencement of the scholastic year being at hand, Tiberge and I agreed to enter ourselves together at St. Sulpice, he to pursue his theological studies, and I to begin mine. His merits, which were not unknown to the bishop of the diocese, procured him the promise of a living from that prelate before our departure.

"The start of the school year was approaching, and Tiberge and I decided to enroll together at St. Sulpice, with him focusing on his theology studies and me starting mine. His accomplishments, which were known to the bishop of the diocese, earned him a promise of a position from the bishop before we left."

"My father, thinking me quite cured of my passion, made no objection to my taking final leave. We arrived at Paris. The Cross of Malta gave place to the ecclesiastical habit, and the designation of the Abbé de Grieux was substituted for that of chevalier. I applied so diligently to study, that in a few months I had made extraordinary progress. I never lost a moment of the day, and employed even part of the night. I soon acquired such a reputation, that I was already congratulated upon the honours which I was sure of obtaining; and, without solicitation on my part, my name was inscribed on the list for a vacant benefice. Piety was by no means neglected, and I entered with ardent devotion into all the exercises of religion. Tiberge was proud of what he considered the work of his own hands, and many a time have I seen him shed tears of delight in noticing what he styled my perfect conversion.

My father, thinking I had completely moved on from my infatuation, didn’t object to my final departure. We arrived in Paris. The Cross of Malta was replaced by the clerical robe, and I was called Abbé de Grieux instead of chevalier. I focused so intensely on my studies that in just a few months I made incredible progress. I never wasted a single moment during the day and even spent part of the night studying. I quickly gained such a good reputation that people were already congratulating me on the honors I was sure to earn; without me having to ask, my name was added to the list for a vacant position. I didn’t neglect my spirituality, and I wholeheartedly participated in all the religious activities. Tiberge took pride in what he saw as his accomplishment, and many times I saw him tear up with joy when he witnessed what he called my complete transformation.

"It has never been matter of wonder to me that human resolutions are liable to change; one passion gives them birth, another may destroy them; but when I reflect upon the sacredness of those motives that led me to St. Sulpice, and upon the heartfelt satisfaction I enjoyed while obeying their dictation, I shudder at the facility with which I outraged them all. If it be true that the benign succour afforded by Heaven is at all times equal to the strongest of man's pinions, I shall be glad to learn the nature of the deplorable ascendancy which causes us suddenly to swerve from the path of duty, without the power of offering the least resistance, and without even the slightest visitation of remorse.

"It has never surprised me that people's decisions can change; one passion inspires them, while another can destroy them. However, when I think about the importance of the motivations that led me to St. Sulpice, and the deep satisfaction I felt while following them, I am horrified at how easily I disregarded them all. If it's true that the kind help from Heaven is always equal to the strongest desires of man, I would like to understand the terrible influence that makes us suddenly stray from our responsibilities, without any ability to resist, and without even a hint of remorse."

"I now thought myself entirely safe from the dangers of love. I fancied that I could have preferred a single page of St. Augustine, or a quarter of an hour of Christian meditation, to every sensual gratification, not excepting any that I might have derived even from Manon's society. Nevertheless, one unlucky moment plunged me again headlong into the gulf; and my ruin was the more irreparable, because, falling at once to the same depth from whence I had been before rescued, each of the new disorders into which I now lapsed carried me deeper and deeper still down the profound abyss of vice. I had passed nearly a year at Paris without hearing of Manon. It cost me no slight effort to abstain from enquiry; but the unintermitting advice of Tiberge, and my own reflections, secured this victory over my wishes. The last months glided away so tranquilly, that I considered the memory of this charming but treacherous creature about to be consigned to eternal oblivion.

"I thought I was completely safe from the dangers of love. I believed I would prefer a single page from St. Augustine or fifteen minutes of Christian meditation to any sensual pleasure, even those I might have enjoyed in Manon's company. However, one unfortunate moment sent me crashing back into the void; and my downfall was even more irreversible because, falling back to the same depth from which I had previously been rescued, each new temptation led me further down into the deep abyss of vice. I had spent almost a year in Paris without hearing about Manon. It took a lot of effort to avoid asking about her; but the constant advice from Tiberge and my own thoughts helped me overcome my desires. The last few months passed so peacefully that I thought the memory of this charming yet deceitful woman was about to be forgotten for good."

"The time arrived when I was to undergo a public examination in the class of theology: I invited several persons of consideration to honour me with their presence on the occasion. My name was mentioned in every quarter of Paris: it even reached the ears of her who had betrayed me. She had some difficulty in recognising it with the prefix of Abbé; but curiosity, or perhaps remorse for having been faithless to me (I could never after ascertain by which of these feelings she was actuated), made her at once take an interest in a name so like mine; and she came with several other women to the Sorbonne, where she was present at my examination, and had doubtless little trouble in recognising my person.

The time came for me to take a public exam in theology. I invited several important people to join me for the occasion. My name was mentioned all over Paris; it even reached the ears of the woman who had betrayed me. She had some trouble recognizing it with the title Abbé, but whether it was curiosity or guilt for being unfaithful to me (I could never figure out which emotion drove her), she became interested in a name so similar to mine. She came with several other women to the Sorbonne, where she attended my exam and likely had little trouble recognizing me.

"I had not the remotest suspicion of her presence. It is well known that in these places there are private seats for ladies, where they remain screened by a curtain. I returned to St. Sulpice covered with honours and congratulations. It was six in the evening. The moment I returned, a lady was announced, who desired to speak with me. I went to meet her. Heavens! what a surprise!

"I had no idea she was there. It's common knowledge that in these places, there are designated areas for women, where they stay hidden behind a curtain. I came back to St. Sulpice feeling celebrated and praised. It was six in the evening. As soon as I got back, a woman was announced who wanted to talk to me. I went to see her. Wow! What a shock!"

"It was Manon. It was she indeed, but more bewitching and brilliant than I had ever beheld her. She was now in her eighteenth year. Her beauty beggars all description. The exquisite grace of her form, the mild sweetness of expression that animated her features, and her engaging air, made her seem the very personification of love. The vision was something too perfect for human beauty.

It was Manon. It really was her, but she was even more enchanting and radiant than I had ever seen her. She was now eighteen. Her beauty is beyond words. The elegant grace of her figure, the gentle sweetness in her expression, and her charming presence made her seem like the very embodiment of love. The image was almost too perfect for human beauty.

"I stood like one enchanted at beholding her. Unable to divine the object of her visit, I waited trembling and with downcast looks until she explained herself. At first, her embarrassment was equal to mine; but, seeing that I was not disposed to break silence, she raised her hand to her eyes to conceal a starting tear, and then, in a timid tone, said that she well knew she had justly earned my abhorrence by her infidelity; but that if I had ever really felt any love for her, there was not much kindness in allowing two long years to pass without enquiring after her, and as little now in seeing her in the state of mental distress in which she was, without condescending to bestow upon her a single word. I shall not attempt to describe what my feelings were as I listened to this reproof.

I stood there, almost spellbound, just looking at her. Not able to figure out why she was here, I waited nervously with my eyes down until she started to explain. At first, she seemed just as awkward as I was; but when she noticed I wasn’t going to speak, she raised her hand to cover her tear-filled eyes and said, in a hesitant voice, that she knew she had deserved my disgust because of her betrayal. She added that if I had ever really loved her, it wasn’t very kind of me to let two whole years go by without checking in on her, and it wasn’t kind now to see her so distressed and not offer even a single word. I won’t even try to put into words how I felt as I listened to her scolding.

"She seated herself. I remained standing, with my face half turned aside, for I could not muster courage to meet her look. I several times commenced a reply without power to conclude it. At length I made an effort, and in a tone of poignant grief exclaimed: 'Perfidious Manon! perfidious, perfidious creature!' She had no wish, she repeated with a flood of tears, to attempt to justify her infidelity. 'What is your wish, then?' cried I. 'I wish to die,' she answered, 'if you will not give me back that heart, without which it is impossible to endure life.' 'Take my life too, then, faithless girl!' I exclaimed, in vain endeavouring to restrain my tears; 'take my life also! it is the sole sacrifice that remains for me to make, for my heart has never ceased to be thine.'

She sat down. I stayed standing, with my face partly turned away, because I couldn't gather the courage to meet her gaze. I started to respond several times but couldn't finish. Finally, I took a deep breath and, with intense sadness, exclaimed, "Traitorous Manon! treacherous, treacherous creature!" She had no desire, she said through her tears, to justify her betrayal. "What do you want, then?" I shouted. "I want to die," she replied, "if you won't give me back that heart, without which life is unbearable." "Then take my life too, unfaithful girl!" I shouted, struggling to hold back my tears; "take my life as well! It's the only sacrifice I have left to make, because my heart has never stopped belonging to you."

"I had hardly uttered these words, when she rose in a transport of joy, and approached to embrace me. She loaded me with a thousand caresses. She addressed me by all the endearing appellations with which love supplies his votaries, to enable them to express the most passionate fondness. I still answered with affected coldness; but the sudden transition from a state of quietude, such as that I had up to this moment enjoyed, to the agitation and tumult which were now kindled in my breast and tingled through my veins, thrilled me with a kind of horror, and impressed me with a vague sense that I was about to undergo some great transformation, and to enter upon a new existence.

"I had barely said these words when she jumped up in a burst of joy and came over to hug me. She showered me with a thousand affectionate gestures. She called me by all the sweet names that love gives its followers to help them show their deepest feelings. I still responded with fake indifference, but the sudden shift from the calm I had enjoyed until now to the turmoil and excitement now raging in my chest and coursing through my veins filled me with a sense of dread and made me feel like I was about to go through a major change and start a completely new life."

"We sat down close by each other. I took her hand within mine, 'Ah! Manon,' said I, with a look of sorrow, 'I little thought that love like mine could have been repaid with treachery! It was a poor triumph to betray a heart of which you were the absolute mistress—whose sole happiness it was to gratify and obey you. Tell me if among others you have found any so affectionate and so devoted? No, no! I believe nature has cast few hearts in the same mould as mine. Tell me at least whether you have ever thought of me with regret! Can I have any reliance on the duration of the feeling that has brought you back to me today? I perceive too plainly that you are infinitely lovelier than ever: but I conjure you by all my past sufferings, dearest Manon, to tell me—can you in future be more faithful?'

"We sat down close to each other. I took her hand in mine. 'Ah! Manon,' I said with a sad look, 'I never thought that love like mine could be met with betrayal! It was a poor victory to deceive a heart that you completely controlled—whose only happiness was to please and serve you. Tell me, among others, have you found anyone as affectionate and devoted as I am? No, no! I believe very few hearts are made like mine. Please, at least tell me if you've ever thought of me with regret! Can I trust that the feelings that brought you back to me today will last? I can see too clearly that you are more beautiful than ever, but I beg you by all my past suffering, dear Manon, to tell me—can you be more faithful in the future?'”

"She gave me in reply such tender assurances of her repentance, and pledged her fidelity with such solemn protestations and vows, that I was inexpressibly affected. 'Beauteous Manon,' said I, with rather a profane mixture of amorous and theological expressions, 'you are too adorable for a created being. I feel my heart transported with triumphant rapture. It is folly to talk of liberty at St. Sulpice. Fortune and reputation are but slight sacrifices at such a shrine! I plainly foresee it: I can read my destiny in your bright eyes; but what abundant recompense shall I not find in your affections for any loss I may sustain! The favours of fortune have no influence over me: fame itself appears to me but a mockery; all my projects of a holy life were wild absurdities: in fact, any joys but those I may hope for at your side are fit objects of contempt. There are none that would not vanish into worthlessness before one single glance of thine!'

"She replied with such heartfelt assurances of her regret and promised her loyalty with such serious declarations and vows that I was deeply moved. 'Beautiful Manon,' I said, mixing romantic and religious sentiments, 'you are too amazing for a mere mortal. My heart is soaring with joy. It's foolish to talk about freedom at St. Sulpice. Wealth and reputation are small prices to pay at such a shrine! I can see it clearly: I can read my future in your bright eyes; but what incredible rewards will I gain from your love for any loss I may suffer! The favors of fate mean nothing to me: fame feels like a joke; all my plans for a holy life were just foolish dreams: in reality, any joy that isn't by your side is worthless. Nothing would hold any value compared to just one glance from you!'”

"In promising her, however, a full remission of her past frailties, I enquired how she permitted herself to be led astray by B——. She informed me that having seen her at her window, he became passionately in love with her; that he made his advances in the true style of a mercantile cit;—that is to say, by giving her to understand in his letter, that his payments would be proportioned to her favours; that she had admitted his overtures at first with no other intention than that of getting from him such a sum as might enable us to live without inconvenience; but that he had so bewildered her with splendid promises, that she allowed herself to be misled by degrees. She added, that I ought to have formed some notion of the remorse she experienced, by her grief on the night of our separation; and assured me that, in spite of the splendour in which he maintained her, she had never known a moment's happiness with him, not only, she said, because he was utterly devoid of that delicacy of sentiment and of those agreeable manners which I possessed, but because even in the midst of the amusements which he unceasingly procured her, she could never shake off the recollection of my love, or her own ingratitude. She then spoke of Tiberge, and the extreme embarrassment his visit caused her. 'A dagger's point,' she added, 'could not have struck more terror to my heart. I turned from him, unable to sustain the interview for a moment.'

"In promising her a complete forgiveness for her past mistakes, I asked how she allowed herself to be misled by B——. She told me that when he saw her at her window, he fell for her deeply; he approached her in the typical way of a businessman—meaning, in his letter, he hinted that his financial support would depend on her affection. At first, she responded to his advances only with the intention of getting enough money from him so we could live comfortably; but he dazzled her with extravagant promises, gradually leading her astray. She mentioned that I should have realized the remorse she felt from her sorrow on the night we separated, and assured me that despite the luxurious lifestyle he provided for her, she never experienced a moment of true happiness with him. Not only, she said, because he completely lacked the sensitivity and charm that I had, but also because even in the midst of all the fun he constantly arranged for her, she couldn't escape the memory of my love or her own ungratefulness. She then talked about Tiberge and how incredibly awkward his visit was for her. 'A knife's edge,' she added, 'couldn't have struck more fear in my heart. I turned away from him, unable to handle the meeting for even a second.'"

"She continued to inform me how she had been apprised of my residence at Paris, of the change in my condition, and of her witnessing my examination at the Sorbonne. She told me how agitated she had been during my intellectual conflict with the examiner; what difficulty she felt in restraining her tears as well as her sighs, which were more than once on the point of spurning all control, and bursting forth; that she was the last person to leave the hall of examination, for fear of betraying her distress, and that, following only the instinct of her own heart, and her ardent desires, she came direct to the seminary, with the firm resolution of surrendering life itself, if she found me cruel enough to withhold my forgiveness.

"She went on to tell me how she found out about where I was living in Paris, about the changes in my life, and about seeing me take my exam at the Sorbonne. She shared how stressed she was during my tough moment with the examiner; how hard it was for her to hold back her tears and sighs, which almost escaped her control multiple times; that she was the last person to leave the exam room, afraid of showing her upset, and that, following her heart and strong feelings, she went straight to the seminary, determined to give up her life if she found me heartless enough to deny my forgiveness."

"Could any savage remain unmoved by such proofs of cordial repentance as those I had just witnessed? For my part, I felt at the moment that I could gladly have given up all the bishoprics in Christendom for Manon. I asked what course she would recommend in our present emergency. 'It is requisite,' she replied, 'at all events, to quit the seminary, and settle in some safer place.' I consented to everything she proposed. She got into her carriage to go and wait for me at the corner of the street. I escaped the next moment, without attracting the porter's notice. I entered the carriage, and we drove off to a Jew's. I there resumed my lay-dress and sword. Manon furnished the supplies, for I was without a sou, and fearing that I might meet with some new impediment, she would not consent to my returning to my room at St. Sulpice for my purse. My finances were in truth wretchedly low, and hers more than sufficiently enriched by the liberality of M. de B—— to make her think lightly of my loss. We consulted together at the Jew's as to the course we should now adopt.

"Could any savage stay indifferent after seeing such heartfelt remorse as I had just witnessed? For my part, I felt at that moment that I would gladly trade all the bishoprics in Christendom for Manon. I asked her what she would suggest we do in our current situation. 'We definitely need to leave the seminary and find a safer place,' she replied. I agreed to everything she suggested. She got into her carriage to wait for me at the corner of the street. I slipped away quickly, without drawing the porter's attention. I entered the carriage, and we drove off to a jeweler's. There, I changed back into my regular clothes and put on my sword. Manon provided the money because I didn't have a cent, and since I was worried about running into more problems, she wouldn't let me go back to my room at St. Sulpice to get my wallet. My finances were truly in a terrible state, and hers were more than enough thanks to the generosity of M. de B——, so she didn’t worry about my loss. We discussed what we should do next at the jeweler's."

"In order to enhance the sacrifice she had made for me of her late lover, she determined to treat him without the least ceremony. 'I shall leave him all his furniture,' she said; 'it belongs to him: but I shall assuredly carry off, as I have a right to do, the jewels, and about sixty thousand francs, which I have had from him in the last two years. I have given him no control over me,' she added, 'so that we may remain without apprehension in Paris, taking a convenient house, where we shall live, oh how happily together!'

"To honor the sacrifice she made for me regarding her late lover, she decided to treat him with no formality at all. 'I'll leave him all his furniture,' she said; 'it’s his. But I’m definitely taking the jewelry and around sixty thousand francs that I received from him over the last two years. I haven't given him any authority over me,' she added, 'so we can stay in Paris without worry, finding a nice place where we can live, oh so happily together!'"

"I represented to her that, although there might be no danger for her, there was a great deal for me, who must be sooner or later infallibly recognised, and continually exposed to a repetition of the trials I had before endured. She gave me to understand that she could not quit Paris without regret. I had such a dread of giving her annoyance, that there were no risks I would not have encountered for her sake. However, we compromised matters by resolving to take a house in some village near Paris, from whence it would be easy for us to come into town whenever pleasure or business required it. We fixed on Chaillot, which is at a convenient distance. Manon at once returned to her house, and I went to wait for her at a side-gate of the garden of the Tuileries.

"I told her that, even though she might not be in any danger, there was a lot at stake for me, as I would eventually be recognized and constantly faced with the same challenges I had endured before. She made it clear that she would miss Paris if she left. I was so afraid of upsetting her that I would have taken any risks just for her. In the end, we decided to rent a house in a village near Paris, where it would be easy for us to come into the city whenever we wanted or needed to. We settled on Chaillot, which is a decent distance away. Manon then went back to her place, and I waited for her at a side gate of the Tuileries garden."

"She returned an hour after, in a hired carriage, with a servant-maid, and several trunks, which contained her dresses, and everything she had of value.

"She came back an hour later in a rented carriage, with a maid and several trunks that held her clothes and everything she owned that was valuable."

"We were not long on our way to Chaillot. We lodged the first night at the inn, in order to have time to find a suitable house, or at least a commodious lodging. We found one to our taste the next morning.

"We didn't spend much time on our journey to Chaillot. We stayed at the inn the first night to have time to find a suitable house, or at least a comfortable place to stay. The next morning, we found one that we liked."

"My happiness now appeared to be secured beyond the reach of fate. Manon was everything most sweet and amiable. She was so delicate and so unceasing in her attentions to me, that I deemed myself but too bountifully rewarded for all my past troubles. As we had both, by this time, acquired some experience, we discussed rationally the state of our finances. Sixty thousand francs (the amount of our wealth) was not a sum that could be expected to last our whole life; besides, we were neither of us much disposed to control our expenses. Manon's chief virtue assuredly was not economy, any more than it was mine. This was my proposition. 'Sixty thousand francs,' said I, 'may support us for ten years. Two thousand crowns a year will suffice, if we continue to live at Chaillot. We shall keep up appearances, but live frugally. Our only expense will be occasionally a carriage, and the theatres. We shall do everything in moderation. You like the opera; we shall go twice a week, in the season. As for play, we shall limit ourselves; so that our losses must never exceed three crowns. It is impossible but that in the space of ten years some change must occur in my family: my father is even now of an advanced age; he may die; in which event I must inherit a fortune, and we shall then be above all other fears.'

My happiness now seemed secure from any twist of fate. Manon was incredibly sweet and charming. She was so delicate and so dedicated to me that I felt I was more than rewarded for all my past troubles. By this point, we had both gained some experience, so we talked sensibly about our finances. Sixty thousand francs (the total of our wealth) wasn't enough to last a lifetime; plus, neither of us was very inclined to watch our spending. Manon's main quality definitely wasn't being thrifty, and mine wasn't either. Here’s what I proposed. "Sixty thousand francs," I said, "might last us for ten years. Two thousand crowns a year will be enough if we continue to live in Chaillot. We’ll keep up appearances but live simply. Our only expenses will be the occasional carriage and theatre tickets. We'll do everything in moderation. You love the opera; we'll go twice a week during the season. As for gambling, we’ll set a limit, so our losses won’t exceed three crowns. It's inevitable that something will change in my family over the next ten years: my father is quite old; he might pass away, and in that case, I would inherit a fortune, and we won’t have to worry anymore."

"This arrangement would not have been by any means the most silly act of my life, if we had only been prudent enough to persevere in its execution; but our resolutions hardly lasted longer than a month. Manon's passion was for amusement; she was the only object of mine. New temptations to expense constantly presented themselves, and far from regretting the money which she sometimes prodigally lavished, I was the first to procure for her everything likely to afford her pleasure. Our residence at Chaillot began even to appear tiresome.

"This plan wouldn’t have been the craziest thing I've ever done if we had just been smart enough to stick it out; however, our determination barely lasted a month. Manon's main interest was having fun, and she was my sole focus. New temptations to spend money kept popping up, and rather than regretting the cash she sometimes wasted, I was actually the first to get her anything that might make her happy. Our time in Chaillot was starting to feel a bit boring."

"Winter was approaching, and the whole world returning to town; the country had a deserted look. She proposed to me to take a house in Paris. I did not approve of this; but, in order partly at least to satisfy her, I said that we might hire furnished apartments, and that we might sleep there whenever we were late in quitting the assembly, whither we often went; for the inconvenience of returning so late to Chaillot was her excuse for wishing to leave it. We had thus two dwellings, one in town and the other in the country. This change soon threw our affairs into confusion, and led to two adventures, which eventually caused our ruin.

"Winter was on its way, and everyone was heading back to the city; the countryside looked empty. She suggested we rent a place in Paris. I wasn't on board with that, but to appease her at least a little, I said we could get furnished apartments and stay there whenever we were out late at events, which we often attended; she used the hassle of coming back so late to Chaillot as her reason for wanting to leave. So, we ended up with two homes, one in the city and the other in the countryside. This change quickly threw our lives into chaos and led to two incidents that ultimately brought us down."

"Manon had a brother in the Guards. He unfortunately lived in the very street in which we had taken lodgings. He one day recognised his sister at the window, and hastened over to us. He was a fellow of the rudest manners, and without the slightest principle of honour. He entered the room swearing in the most horrible way; and as he knew part of his sister's history, he loaded her with abuse and reproaches.

"Manon had a brother in the Guards. He sadly lived on the same street where we were staying. One day, he spotted his sister at the window and rushed over to us. He was a guy with the worst manners and no sense of honor. He barged into the room cursing like crazy, and since he knew part of his sister's story, he bombarded her with insults and accusations."

"I had gone out the moment before, which was doubtless fortunate for either him or me, for I was little disposed to brook an insult. I only returned to the lodgings after he had left them. The low spirits in which I found Manon convinced me at once that something extraordinary had occurred. She told me of the provoking scene she had just gone through, and of the brutal threats of her brother. I felt such indignation, that I wished to proceed at once to avenge her, when she entreated me with tears to desist.

"I had just stepped out right before, which was definitely lucky for either him or me, since I wasn't in the mood to put up with an insult. I only came back to the place after he had already left. The gloomy mood I found Manon in immediately made me realize that something unusual had happened. She told me about the annoying scene she had just experienced and the harsh threats from her brother. I felt so angry that I wanted to go straight away to fight for her, but she pleaded with me in tears to stop."

"While we were still talking of the adventure, the guardsman again entered the room in which we sat, without even waiting to be announced. Had I known him, he should not have met from me as civil a reception as he did; but saluting us with a smile upon his countenance, he addressed himself to Manon, and said, he was come to make excuses for his violence; that he had supposed her to be living a life of shame and disgrace, and it was this notion that excited his rage; but having since made enquiry from one of our servants, he had learned such a character of me, that his only wish was now to be on terms with us both.

"While we were still discussing the adventure, the guardsman walked into the room where we were sitting without even waiting to be announced. If I had known him, he wouldn’t have received such a polite welcome from me; however, smiling at us, he turned to Manon and said he had come to apologize for his earlier outburst. He had thought she was living a life of shame and disgrace, and that idea had fueled his anger. But after asking one of our servants about me, he had learned enough to realize that all he wanted now was to be on good terms with both of us."

"Although this admission, of having gone for information to one of my own servants, had in it something ludicrous as well as indelicate, I acknowledged his compliments with civility, I thought by doing so to please Manon, and I was not deceived—she was delighted at the reconciliation. We made him stay to dine with us.

"Even though admitting that I had gone to one of my own servants for information was both a bit funny and awkward, I responded politely to his compliments, thinking it would make Manon happy, and I was right—she was thrilled about the reconciliation. We invited him to stay for dinner with us."

"In a little time he became so familiar, that hearing us speak of our return to Chaillot, he insisted on accompanying us. We were obliged to give him a seat in our carriage. This was in fact putting him into possession, for he soon began to feel so much pleasure in our company, that he made our house his home, and made himself in some measure master of all that belonged to us. He called me his brother, and, under the semblance of fraternal freedom, he put himself on such a footing as to introduce all his friends without ceremony into our house at Chaillot, and there entertain them at our expense. His magnificent uniforms were procured of my tailor and charged to me, and he even contrived to make Manon and me responsible for all his debts. I pretended to be blind to this system of tyranny, rather than annoy Manon, and even to take no notice of the sums of money which from time to time he received from her. No doubt, as he played very deep, he was honest enough to repay her a part sometimes, when luck turned in his favour; but our finances were utterly inadequate to supply, for any length of time, demands of such magnitude and frequency.

"In no time, he became so comfortable with us that when we talked about going back to Chaillot, he insisted on coming along. We had no choice but to give him a seat in our carriage. This really meant he was taking charge, as he quickly started enjoying our company so much that he made our house his home and acted like he was in control of everything we had. He called me his brother, and under the guise of brotherly freedom, he started bringing all his friends over to our place in Chaillot without asking and entertained them at our expense. His fancy uniforms were made by my tailor and charged to me, and he even managed to have Manon and me take on all his debts. I pretended not to notice this oppressive behavior to avoid upsetting Manon, and I even ignored the money he occasionally received from her. He played high stakes poker but was honest enough to pay her back a little when he got lucky, but our finances were completely unable to handle such large and frequent demands for long."

"I was on the point of coming to an understanding with him, in order to put an end to the system, when an unfortunate accident saved me that trouble, by involving us in inextricable ruin.

"I was about to reach an agreement with him to put an end to the situation when an unfortunate accident spared me that trouble by leading us into unavoidable disaster."

"One night we stopped in Paris to sleep, as it had now indeed become our constant habit. The servant-maid who on such occasions remained alone at Chaillot, came early the next morning to inform me that our house had taken fire in the night, and that the flames had been extinguished with great difficulty. I asked whether the furniture had suffered. She answered, that there had been such confusion, owing to the multitude of strangers who came to offer assistance, that she could hardly ascertain what damage had been done. I was principally uneasy about our money, which had been locked up in a little box. I went off in haste to Chaillot. Vain hope! the box had disappeared!

"One night we stopped in Paris to sleep, which had become our usual routine. The maid who stayed at Chaillot during these times came early the next morning to tell me that our house had caught fire during the night and that the flames had been put out with great difficulty. I asked if the furniture had been damaged. She replied that it was so chaotic, with so many strangers coming to help, that she could hardly tell what damage had occurred. I was mainly worried about our money, which had been locked in a small box. I hurried off to Chaillot. What a futile hope! The box was gone!"

"I discovered that one could love money without being a miser. This loss afflicted me to such a degree that I was almost out of my mind. I saw at one glance to what new calamities I should be exposed: poverty was the least of them. I knew Manon thoroughly; I had already had abundant proof that, although faithful and attached to me under happier circumstances, she could not be depended upon in want: pleasure and plenty she loved too well to sacrifice them for my sake. 'I shall lose her!' I cried; 'miserable chevalier! you are about then to lose all that you love on earth!' This thought agitated me to such a degree that I actually for some moments considered whether it would not be best for me to end at once all my miseries by death. I however preserved presence of mind enough to reflect whether I was entirely without resource, and an idea occurred to me which quieted my despair. It would not be impossible, I thought, to conceal our loss from Manon; and I might perhaps discover some ways and means of supplying her, so as to ward off the inconveniences of poverty.

"I realized that you can love money without being stingy. This realization hit me so hard that I almost lost my mind. In an instant, I saw all the new troubles I would face: poverty was the least of them. I knew Manon well; I had seen plenty of evidence that, while loyal and devoted to me in better times, she couldn't be relied upon when times were tough: she loved pleasure and abundance too much to give them up for me. 'I'm going to lose her!' I shouted; 'you miserable knight! You're about to lose everything you love in this world!' This thought troubled me so much that I even considered whether it might be best to end all my suffering with death. However, I managed to keep my head enough to think about whether I was completely out of options, and an idea came to me that calmed my despair. I thought it might not be impossible to hide our loss from Manon; maybe I could find a way to provide for her, so we could avoid the hardships of poverty."

"I had calculated in endeavouring to comfort myself, that twenty thousand crowns would support us for ten years. Suppose that these ten years had now elapsed, and that none of the events which I had looked for in my family had occurred. What then would have been my course? I hardly know; but whatever I should then have done, why may I not do now? How many are there in Paris, who have neither my talents, nor the natural advantages I possess, and who, notwithstanding, owe their support to the exercise of their talents, such as they are?

"I calculated in trying to comfort myself that twenty thousand crowns would last us for ten years. Suppose those ten years have now passed, and none of the events I expected for my family happened. What would I have done then? I hardly know; but whatever I would have done then, why can't I do it now? How many people in Paris have neither my skills nor the natural advantages I have, yet still manage to support themselves using their talents, whatever they may be?"

"'Has not Providence,' I added, while reflecting on the different conditions of life, 'arranged things wisely?' The greater number of the powerful and the rich are fools. No one who knows anything of the world can doubt that. How admirable is the compensating justice thereof! If wealth brought with it talent also, the rich would be too happy, and other men too wretched. To these latter are given personal advantages and genius, to help them out of misery and want. Some of them share the riches of the wealthy by administering to their pleasures, or by making them their dupes; others afford them instruction, and endeavour to make them decent members of society; to be sure, they do not always succeed; but that was probably not the intention of the divine wisdom. In every case they derive a benefit from their labours by living at the expense of their pupils; and, in whatever point of view it is considered, the follies of the rich are a bountiful source of revenue to the humbler classes.

"'Hasn't Providence,' I added, while thinking about the different conditions of life, 'set things up wisely?' The majority of the powerful and wealthy are fools. Anyone who knows anything about the world can't doubt that. How amazing is the balancing justice in this! If wealth also came with talent, the rich would be too happy, and others would be too miserable. To these others are given personal advantages and talent to help them escape from hardship and poverty. Some of them share in the riches of the wealthy by catering to their pleasures or by tricking them; others provide them with education and try to make them decent members of society; of course, they don't always succeed; but that was probably not the intention of divine wisdom. In any case, they benefit from their efforts by living off their students; and, from any angle you look at it, the foolishness of the rich is a generous source of income for the less fortunate.

"These thoughts restored me a little to my spirits and to my reason. I determined first to consult M. Lescaut, the brother of Manon. He knew Paris perfectly; and I had too many opportunities of learning that it was neither from his own estates, nor from the king's pay, that he derived the principal portion of his income. I had about thirty-three crowns left, which I fortunately happened to have about me. I showed him my purse, and explained to him my misfortune and my fears, and then asked him whether I had any alternative between starvation and blowing out my brains in despair. He coolly replied that suicide was the resource of fools. As to dying of want, there were hundreds of men of genius who found themselves reduced to that state when they would not employ their talents; that it was for myself to discover what I was capable of doing, and he told me to reckon upon his assistance and his advice in any enterprise I might undertake.

These thoughts lifted my spirits and helped me think clearly again. I decided to talk to M. Lescaut, Manon's brother. He knew Paris really well, and I had seen enough to know that his income didn’t mainly come from his own land or the king's salary. I had about thirty-three crowns left, which I was lucky to have on me. I showed him my purse and explained my troubles and fears, then I asked if I had any other options besides starving or ending it all in despair. He calmly replied that suicide was for fools. As for dying from lack of food, there were many talented people who found themselves in that situation because they wouldn’t use their skills; it was up to me to figure out what I could do, and he assured me I could count on his support and advice for any venture I decided to pursue.

"'Vague enough, M. Lescaut!' said I to him: 'my wants demand a more speedy remedy; for what am I to say to Manon?' 'Apropos of Manon,' replied he, 'what is it that annoys you about her? Cannot you always find in her wherewithal to meet your wants, when you wish it? Such a person ought to support us all, you and me as well as herself.' He cut short the answer which I was about to give to such unfeeling and brutal impertinence, by going on to say, that before night he would ensure me a thousand crowns to divide between us, if I would only follow his advice; that he was acquainted with a nobleman, who was so liberal in affairs of the kind, that he was certain he would not hesitate for a moment to give the sum named for the favours of such a girl as Manon.

"'Vague enough, M. Lescaut!' I said to him. 'I need a quicker solution; what am I supposed to tell Manon?' 'Speaking of Manon,' he replied, 'what bothers you about her? Can’t you always find what you need in her when you want it? A person like her should be able to support all of us, you, me, and herself.' He interrupted the answer I was about to give to such cold and harsh insensitivity by stating that by nightfall he'd make sure I'd have a thousand crowns to share with him if I just followed his advice; he knew a nobleman who was so generous in these matters that he was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to pay that amount for the favors of a girl like Manon."

"I stopped him. 'I had a better opinion of you,' said I; 'I had imagined that your motive for bestowing your friendship upon me was very different indeed from the one you now betray.' With the greatest effrontery he acknowledged that he had been always of the same mind, and that his sister having once sacrificed her virtue, though it might be to the man she most loved, he would never have consented to a reconciliation with her, but with the hope of deriving some advantage from her past misconduct.

"I stopped him. 'I thought better of you,' I said; 'I imagined your reason for being friends with me was very different from what you've just revealed.' With complete shamelessness, he admitted that he had always felt the same way, and that since his sister had once compromised her integrity, even if it was for the man she loved the most, he would never have agreed to make up with her unless he hoped to gain something from her past mistakes."

"It was easy to see that we had been hitherto his dupes. Notwithstanding the disgust with which his proposition inspired me, still, as I felt that I had occasion for his services, I said, with apparent complacency, that we ought only to entertain such a plan as a last resource. I begged of him to suggest some other.

"It was clear that we had been his fools up to this point. Despite the disgust I felt at his suggestion, since I knew I needed his help, I said, with a fake smile, that we should only consider such a plan as a last resort. I asked him to come up with another option."

"He proposed to me to turn my youth and the good looks nature had bestowed upon me to some account, by establishing a liaison with some generous old dame. This was just as little to my taste, for it would necessarily have rendered me unfaithful to Manon.

"He suggested that I use my youth and the natural beauty I had been given to my advantage by getting involved with some wealthy older woman. I wasn’t interested in that at all, as it would have meant being unfaithful to Manon."

"I mentioned play as the easiest scheme, and the most suitable to my present situation. He admitted that play certainly was a resource, but that it was necessary to consider the point well. 'Mere play,' said he, 'with its ordinary chances, is the certain road to ruin; and as for attempting, alone and without an ally, to employ the little means an adroit man has for correcting the vagaries of luck, it would be too dangerous an experiment.' There was, he stated, a third course, which was to enter into what he called a partnership; but he feared his confederates would consider my youth an objection to my admittance. He, however, promised to use his influence with them; and, what was more than I expected at his hands, he said that he would supply me with a little money whenever I had pressing occasion for any. The only favour I then asked of him was to say nothing to Manon of the loss I had experienced, nor of the subject of our conversation.

"I mentioned playing as the easiest plan and the one that fits my current situation best. He agreed that playing was indeed an option, but insisted we needed to think it through carefully. 'Just playing,' he said, 'with its usual risks, is a sure path to disaster; and trying to rely on the limited skills one has to counteract bad luck alone would be too risky.' He pointed out there was a third option, which was to form what he called a partnership; however, he worried his partners would see my age as a reason to exclude me. Nevertheless, he promised to advocate for me, and more than I expected, he offered to lend me a bit of money whenever I really needed it. The only favor I requested was that he not mention my loss to Manon or discuss what we talked about."

"I certainly derived little comfort from my visit to Lescaut; I felt even sorry for having confided my secret to him: not a single thing had he done for me that I might not just as well have done for myself, without troubling him; and I could not help dreading that he would violate his promise to keep the secret from Manon. I had also reason to apprehend, from his late avowals, that he might form the design of making use of her for his own vile purposes, or at least of advising her to quit me for some happier and more wealthy lover. This idea brought in its train a thousand reflections, which had no other effect than to torment me, and throw me again into the state of despair in which I had passed the morning. It occurred to me, more than once, to write to my father; and to pretend a new reformation, in order to obtain some pecuniary assistance from him; but I could not forget that, notwithstanding all his natural love and affection for me, he had shut me up for six months in a confined room for my first transgression; and I was certain that, after the scandalous sensation caused by my flight from St. Sulpice, he would be sure to treat me with infinitely more rigour now.

I definitely got little comfort from my visit to Lescaut; I even regretted confiding my secret to him. He hadn't done a single thing for me that I couldn't have done myself without bothering him. I also worried that he might break his promise to keep the secret from Manon. From his recent admissions, I had reason to fear that he might plan to use her for his own nasty purposes or at least encourage her to leave me for a wealthier and happier lover. This thought led to a flood of reflections that only tormented me and threw me back into the despair I'd felt all morning. I considered writing to my father and pretending to reform in order to get some financial help from him, but I couldn't forget that, despite his natural love for me, he had locked me up for six months in a small room for my first mistake. I was sure that after the scandal from my escape from St. Sulpice, he would treat me even more harshly now.

"At length, out of this chaos of fancies came an idea that all at once restored ease to my mind, and which I was surprised at not having hit upon sooner; this was, to go again to my friend Tiberge, in whom I might be always sure of finding the same unfailing zeal and friendship. There is nothing more glorious—nothing that does more honour to true virtue, than the confidence with which one approaches a friend of tried integrity; no apprehension, no risk of unkind repulse: if it be not always in his power to afford the required succour, one is sure at least of meeting kindness and compassion. The heart of the poor supplicant, which remains impenetrably closed to the rest of the world, opens in his presence, as a flower expands before the orb of day, from which it instinctively knows it can derive a cheering and benign influence only.

Finally, out of this chaos of thoughts came an idea that suddenly eased my mind, and I was surprised I hadn't thought of it sooner; it was to go back to my friend Tiberge, where I could always count on the same unwavering support and friendship. There’s nothing more admirable—nothing that truly honors virtue—than the confidence one feels when approaching a friend of proven integrity; there’s no fear, no risk of harsh rejection. Even if he may not always be able to provide the help I need, I can at least count on kindness and compassion. The heart of the needy supplicant, which stays shut off from the rest of the world, opens in his presence, like a flower blooming before the sun, from which it instinctively knows it can receive encouraging and gentle warmth.

"I consider it a blessing to have thought so apropos of Tiberge, and resolved to take measures to find him before evening. I returned at once to my lodgings to write him a line, and fix a convenient place for our meeting. I requested secrecy and discretion, as the most important service he could render me under present circumstances.

"I think it's a blessing to have thought so much about Tiberge, and I decided to take steps to find him before evening. I went back to my place right away to write him a note and set a good spot for our meeting. I asked him to keep this private and to be discreet, as that would be the most helpful thing he could do for me right now."

"The pleasure I derived from the prospect of seeing Tiberge dissipated every trace of melancholy, which Manon would not have failed otherwise to detect in my countenance. I described our misfortune at Chaillot as a trifle which ought not to annoy her; and Paris being the spot she liked best in the world, she was not sorry to hear me say that it would be necessary for us to remain there entirely, until the little damage was repaired which had been caused by the fire at Chaillot.

The excitement I felt about seeing Tiberge wiped away any sadness, which Manon would have definitely noticed otherwise on my face. I downplayed our trouble at Chaillot as something minor that shouldn’t bother her; and since Paris was her favorite place in the world, she was glad to hear me say we would have to stay there until the small repairs from the fire at Chaillot were completed.

"In an hour I received an answer from Tiberge, who promised to be at the appointed rendezvous. I went there punctually. I certainly felt some shame at encountering a friend whose presence alone ought to be a reproach to my iniquities; but I was supported by the opinion I had of the goodness of his heart, as well as by my anxiety about Manon.

"In an hour, I got a reply from Tiberge, who promised to meet me at the arranged spot. I showed up on time. I definitely felt a bit ashamed to face a friend whose mere presence should remind me of my wrongdoings; but I was bolstered by my belief in his good heart, as well as my concern for Manon."

"I had begged of him to meet me in the garden of the Palais Royal. He was there before me. He hastened towards me, the moment he saw me approach and shook me warmly by both hands. I said that I could not help feeling perfectly ashamed to meet him, and that I was weighed down by a sense of my ingratitude; that the first thing I implored of him was to tell me whether I might still consider him my friend, after having so justly incurred the loss of his esteem and affection. He replied, in the kindest possible manner, that it was not in the nature of things to destroy his regard for me; that my misfortunes even, or, if he might so call them, my faults and transgressions, had but increased the interest he felt for me; but that he must confess his affection was not unalloyed by a sentiment of the liveliest sorrow, such as a person may be supposed to feel at seeing a beloved object on the brink of ruin, and beyond the reach of his assistance.

"I had asked him to meet me in the garden of the Palais Royal. He was there before me. He rushed toward me as soon as he saw me coming and shook my hand warmly with both of his. I told him that I felt completely ashamed to see him and that I was burdened by my sense of ingratitude; that the first thing I needed to know was whether I could still consider him my friend after justly losing his esteem and affection. He replied in the kindest way possible that it wasn't in his nature to stop caring for me; that my misfortunes, or what he called my faults and mistakes, only made him more interested in me. However, he had to admit that his feelings were mixed with a deep sorrow, like what someone might feel when watching a loved one on the edge of disaster, unable to help."

"We sat down upon a bench. 'Alas!' said I with a deep sigh, 'your compassion must be indeed great, my dear Tiberge, if you assure me it is equal to my sufferings. I am almost ashamed to recount them, for I confess they have been brought on by no very creditable course of conduct: the results, however, are so truly melancholy, that a friend even less attached than you would be affected by the recital.'

"We sat down on a bench. 'Oh no!' I said with a deep sigh, 'your compassion must be really strong, my dear Tiberge, if you claim it matches my sufferings. I'm almost embarrassed to share them because I admit they’ve come from not-so-great choices: still, the outcomes are so genuinely tragic that even a friend less devoted than you would be moved by the story.'"

"He then begged of me, in proof of friendship, to let him know, without any disguise, all that had occurred to me since my departure from St. Sulpice. I gratified him; and so far from concealing anything, or attempting to extenuate my faults, I spoke of my passion with all the ardour with which it still inspired me. I represented it to him as one of those especial visitations of fate, which draw on the devoted victim to his ruin, and which it is as impossible for virtue itself to resist, as for human wisdom to foresee. I painted to him in the most vivid colours, my excitement, my fears, the state of despair in which I had been two hours before I saw him, and into which I should be again plunged, if I found my friends as relentless as fate had been. I at length made such an impression upon poor Tiberge, that I saw he was as much affected by compassion, as I by the recollection of my sufferings.

He then asked me, as a sign of friendship, to tell him everything that had happened to me since I left St. Sulpice, without holding anything back. I obliged him, and instead of hiding anything or downplaying my mistakes, I talked about my passion with all the intensity it still inspired in me. I described it as one of those special twists of fate that lead the devoted victim to their downfall, which is just as impossible for even the most virtuous person to resist as it is for human wisdom to predict. I vividly shared my excitement, my fears, the desperate state I had been in two hours before I saw him, and how I would fall back into despair if I found my friends as unyielding as fate had been. Ultimately, I made such an impact on poor Tiberge that I could see he was as moved by compassion as I was by the memory of my suffering.

"He took my hand, and exhorted me to have courage and be comforted; but, as he seemed to consider it settled that Manon and I were to separate, I gave him at once to understand that it was that very separation I considered as the most intolerable of all my misfortunes; and that I was ready to endure not only the last degree of misery, but death itself, of the cruellest kind, rather than seek relief in a remedy worse than the whole accumulation of my woes.

"He took my hand and encouraged me to be brave and find comfort; however, since he seemed to think it was decided that Manon and I would part ways, I made it clear that this very separation was the worst of all my misfortunes. I was prepared to endure not only the deepest misery but a cruel death itself rather than seek relief in a solution that would be worse than all my suffering combined."

"'Explain yourself, then,' said he to me; 'what assistance can I afford you, if you reject everything I propose?' I had not courage to tell him that it was from his purse I wanted relief. He, however, comprehended it in the end; and acknowledging that he believed he now understood me, he remained for a moment in an attitude of thought, with the air of a person revolving something in his mind. 'Do not imagine,' he presently said, 'that my hesitation arises from any diminution of my zeal and friendship; but to what an alternative do you now reduce me, since I must either refuse you the assistance you ask, or violate my most sacred duty in affording it! For is it not participating in your sin to furnish you with the means of continuing its indulgence?'

"'Explain yourself, then,' he said to me; 'how can I help you if you dismiss everything I suggest?' I didn’t have the courage to tell him I wanted help from his wallet. However, he figured it out in the end and, acknowledging that he believed he understood me now, paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, like someone pondering something important. 'Don't think,' he said after a moment, 'that my hesitation comes from any lack of zeal or friendship; but what a predicament you put me in, since I have to either deny you the help you seek or betray my most sacred duty by giving it! For isn’t it participating in your wrongdoing to provide you with the means to continue it?'"

"'However,' continued he, after a moment's thought, 'it is perhaps the excited state into which want has thrown you, that denies you now the liberty of choosing the proper path. Man's mind must be at rest, to know the luxury of wisdom and virtue. I can afford to let you have some money; and permit me, my dear chevalier, to impose but one condition; that is, that you let me know the place of your abode, and allow me the opportunity of using my exertions to reclaim you. I know that there is in your heart a love of virtue, and that you have been only led astray by the violence of your passions.'

"'But,' he continued after a moment of thought, 'maybe it's the desperate situation you're in that's preventing you from choosing the right path. A person's mind needs to be at peace to appreciate the true value of wisdom and virtue. I can spare some money for you; just let me ask one thing: please tell me where you live, and allow me the chance to help bring you back. I know there’s a love for virtue in your heart, and that you've been misguided by your strong emotions.'

"I, of course, agreed to everything he asked, and only begged of him to deplore the malign destiny which rendered me callous to the counsels of so virtuous a friend. He then took me to a banker of his acquaintance, who gave one hundred and seventy crowns for his note of hand, which was taken as cash. I have already said that he was not rich. His living was worth about six thousand francs a year, but as this was the first year since his induction, he had as yet touched none of the receipts, and it was out of the future income that he made me this advance.

"I, of course, agreed to everything he asked and just asked him to regret the unfortunate fate that made me indifferent to the advice of such a good friend. He then took me to a banker he knew, who exchanged his promissory note for one hundred and seventy crowns, treating it as cash. As I mentioned before, he wasn’t wealthy. His income was about six thousand francs a year, but since this was his first year in the position, he hadn’t received any of the payments yet, and it was from his future earnings that he was able to lend me this money."

"I felt the full force of his generosity, even to such a degree as almost to deplore the fatal passion which thus led me to break through all the restraints of duty. Virtue had for a moment the ascendancy in my heart, and made me sensible of my shame and degradation. But this was soon over. For Manon I could have given up my hopes of heaven, and when I again found myself at her side, I wondered how I could for an instant have considered myself degraded by my passion for this enchanting girl.

I felt the full impact of his generosity, to the point where I almost regretted the intense passion that made me ignore all my responsibilities. For a moment, virtue had the upper hand in my heart and made me aware of my shame and downfall. But that didn’t last long. For Manon, I could have given up my hopes of heaven, and when I found myself by her side again, I couldn’t believe I had ever thought of myself as degraded by my love for this captivating girl.

"Manon was a creature of most extraordinary disposition. Never had mortal a greater contempt for money, and yet she was haunted by perpetual dread of wanting it. Her only desire was for pleasure and amusement. She would never have wished to possess a sou, if pleasure could be procured without money. She never even cared what our purse contained, provided she could pass the day agreeably; so that, being neither fond of play nor at all dazzled by the desire of great wealth, nothing was more easy than to satisfy her, by daily finding out amusements suited to her moderate wishes. But it became by habit a thing so absolutely necessary for her to have her mind thus occupied, that, without it, it was impossible to exercise the smallest influence over her temper or inclinations. Although she loved me tenderly, and I was the only person, as she often declared, in whose society she could ever find the pure enjoyments of love, yet I felt thoroughly convinced that her attachment could not withstand certain apprehensions. She would have preferred me, even with a moderate fortune, to the whole world; but I had no kind of doubt that she would, on the other hand, abandon me for some new M. de B——, when I had nothing more to offer her than fidelity and love.

Manon was an incredibly unique person. She had a complete disdain for money, yet she was constantly worried about lacking it. Her only real wish was for fun and enjoyment. She would never have wanted to own a cent if she could experience pleasure without spending money. She didn't even care what was in our wallet, as long as she could have a good time each day; because she wasn’t interested in games or overly attracted to the idea of great wealth, it was easy to keep her happy by finding daily activities that matched her simple desires. However, it became a habit for her to need her mind occupied this way, so that without it, it was impossible to influence her mood or preferences in the slightest. Even though she loved me deeply and often said I was the only person with whom she could truly enjoy love, I was convinced that her feelings couldn’t survive certain fears. She would have chosen me, even with limited means, over anyone else in the world; but I had no doubt that she would leave me for some new M. de B—— if I had nothing to offer her but loyalty and love.

"I resolved therefore so to curtail my own individual expenses, as to be able always to meet hers, and rather to deprive myself of a thousand necessaries than even to limit her extravagance. The carriage made me more uneasy than anything else, for I saw no chance of being able to maintain either coachman or horses.

"I decided to cut back on my own spending so I could always cover hers, even if it meant going without a thousand necessities rather than restrict her spending. The carriage worried me more than anything else because I didn't see any way to afford either a driver or the horses."

"I told M. Lescaut of my difficulties, and did not conceal from him that I had received a thousand francs from a friend. He repeated, that if I wished to try the chances of the gaming-table, he was not without hopes that, by spending a few crowns in entertaining his associates, I might be, on his recommendation, admitted into the association. With all my repugnance to cheating, I yielded to dire necessity.

"I told M. Lescaut about my struggles and didn't hide the fact that I had received a thousand francs from a friend. He suggested that if I wanted to try my luck at the casino, he was hopeful that by spending a little money to entertain his friends, I could be accepted into the group on his recommendation. Despite my strong dislike for cheating, I gave in to my desperate situation."

"Lescaut presented me that night as a relation of his own. He added, that I was the more likely to succeed in my new profession, from wanting the favours of fortune. However, to show them that I was not quite reduced to the lowest ebb, he said it was my intention to treat them with a supper. The offer was accepted, and I entertained them en prince. They talked a good deal about my fashionable appearance and the apparent amiability of my disposition; they said that the best hopes might be entertained of me, because there was something in my countenance that bespoke the gentleman, and no one therefore could have a suspicion of my honesty: they voted thanks to Lescaut for having introduced so promising a novice, and deputed one of the members to instruct me for some days in the necessary manoeuvres.

"Lescaut introduced me that night as a relative of his. He said I was likely to succeed in my new career because I was in need of good fortune. However, to show them that I wasn’t completely at rock bottom, he mentioned that I planned to treat them to dinner. They accepted the offer, and I hosted them like royalty. They talked a lot about my stylish appearance and the friendliness of my personality; they said there were good prospects for me because my face had a gentlemanly look, which meant no one could doubt my honesty. They thanked Lescaut for bringing in such a promising newcomer and assigned one of their members to teach me the necessary skills for a few days."

"The principal scene of my exploits was the hotel of Transylvania, where there was a faro table in one room, and other games of cards and dice in the gallery. This academy was kept by the Prince of R——, who then lived at Clagny, and most of his officers belonged to our society. Shall I mention it to my shame? I profited quickly by my instructor's tuition. I acquired an amazing facility in sleight of hand tricks, and learned in perfection to sauter le coup; with the help of a pair of long ruffles, I shuffled so adroitly as to defy the quickest observer, and I ruined several fair players. My unrivalled skill so quickened the progress of my fortunes, that I found myself master, in a few weeks, of very considerable sums, besides what I divided in good faith with my companions.

"The main setting for my adventures was a hotel in Transylvania, where there was a faro table in one room, and other card and dice games in the gallery. This establishment was run by Prince R——, who lived in Clagny at the time, and most of his officers were part of our group. Should I confess this to my shame? I quickly took advantage of my instructor's teachings. I developed an incredible knack for sleight of hand tricks and perfected the art of sauter le coup; with a pair of long ruffles, I shuffled so skillfully that even the quickest observer couldn't catch me, and I ended up ruining several honest players. My unmatched skills accelerated my fortune so much that within a few weeks, I became the master of quite a significant amount of money, in addition to what I honestly shared with my friends."

"I had no longer any fear of communicating to Manon the extent of our loss at Chaillot, and, to console her on the announcement of such disastrous news, I took a furnished house, where we established ourselves in all the pride of opulence and security.

"I no longer feared telling Manon how much we lost at Chaillot, and to comfort her with the bad news, I rented a furnished house, where we settled in with all the pride of wealth and safety."

"Tiberge was in the habit, at this period, of paying me frequent visits. He was never tired of his moral lectures. Over and over again did he represent to me the injury I was inflicting upon my conscience, my honour, and my fortune. I received all his advice kindly, and although I had not the smallest inclination to adopt it, I had no doubt of its sincerity, for I knew its source. Sometimes I rallied him good-humouredly, and entreated him not to be more tight-laced than some other priests were, and even bishops, who by no means considered a mistress incompatible with a good and holy life.' 'Look,' I said, 'at Manon's eyes, and tell me if there is one in the long catalogue of sins that might not there find a plea of justification.' He bore these sallies patiently, and carried his forbearance almost too far: but when he saw my funds increase, and that I had not only returned him the hundred and seventy crowns, but having hired a new house and trebled my expenses, I had plunged deeper than ever into a life of pleasure, he changed his tone and manner towards me. He lamented my obduracy. He warned me against the chastisement of the Divine wrath, and predicted some of the miseries with which indeed I was shortly afterwards visited. 'It is impossible,' he said, 'that the money which now serves to support your debaucheries can have been acquired honourably. You have come by it unjustly, and in the same way shall it be taken from you. The most awful punishment Heaven could inflict would be to allow you the undisturbed enjoyment of it. All my advice,' he added, 'has been useless; I too plainly perceive that it will shortly become troublesome to you. I now take my leave; you are a weak, as well as an ungrateful friend! May your criminal enjoyments vanish as a shadow! may your ill-gotten wealth leave you without a resource; and may you yourself remain alone and deserted, to learn the vanity of these things, which now divert you from better pursuits! When that time arrives, you will find me disposed to love and to serve you; this day ends our intercourse, and I once for all avow my horror of the life you are leading.'

Tiberge frequently visited me during this time. He never grew tired of giving me moral lectures. Time and again, he pointed out the harm I was doing to my conscience, my honor, and my wealth. I accepted all his advice graciously, and even though I had no intention of following it, I had no doubt about his sincerity because I knew where it was coming from. Sometimes I teased him good-naturedly, asking him not to be more uptight than some other priests—and even bishops—who didn’t see having a mistress as incompatible with a good and holy life. "Just look at Manon’s eyes," I said, "and tell me if there’s any sin in the world that couldn’t find justification there." He tolerated my jests patiently, almost too much so, but when he noticed my finances improving, and that I had not only paid him back the hundred and seventy crowns but had also rented a new house and tripled my spending, diving deeper into a life of pleasure, he changed his tone. He lamented my stubbornness and warned me about the punishment of Divine wrath, predicting some of the misfortunes that would soon come my way. "It’s impossible," he said, "that the money you’re using to fund your excesses was earned honorably. You acquired it unjustly, and it will be taken from you in the same way. The worst punishment Heaven could give you would be to let you enjoy it without interruption. All my advice," he added, "has been useless; I can tell it will soon become a burden to you. I’m taking my leave now; you’re both weak and ungrateful as a friend! May your sinful pleasures vanish like a shadow! May your ill-gotten wealth leave you without support, and may you end up alone and abandoned to realize the emptiness of these distractions that keep you from pursuing better things! When that time comes, you’ll find me ready to love and support you; today marks the end of our relationship, and I declare my disgust for the life you’re living."

"It was in my room and in Manon's presence that he delivered this apostolical harangue. He rose to depart. I was about to detain him; but was prevented by Manon, who said it was better to let the madman go.

"It was in my room and in Manon's presence that he gave this passionate speech. He stood up to leave. I was about to stop him, but Manon held me back, saying it was better to let the madman go."

"What he said, however, did not fail to make some impression upon me. I notice these brief passages of my life when I experienced a returning sentiment of virtue, because it was to those traces, however light, that I was afterwards indebted for whatever of fortitude I displayed under the most trying circumstances.

"What he said did leave an impression on me. I remember these brief moments in my life when I felt a renewed sense of virtue, because it was those experiences, no matter how subtle, that I later relied on for the strength I showed during the toughest times."

"Manon's caresses soon dissipated the annoyance this scene had caused me. We continued to lead a life entirely devoted to pleasure and love. The increase of our wealth only redoubled our affection. There were none happier among all the devotees of Venus and Fortune. Heavens! why call this a world of misery, when it can furnish a life of such rapturous enjoyment? But alas, it is too soon over! For what ought man to sigh, could such felicity but last for ever? Ours shared the common fate—in being of short duration, and followed by lasting regrets.

"Manon's tender touches quickly melted away the irritation this scene had brought me. We kept living a life completely focused on pleasure and love. Our growing wealth only deepened our affection. There were none happier among all the followers of Venus and Fortune. Seriously! Why call this a miserable world when it can provide such ecstatic enjoyment? But sadly, it ends too soon! What should one sigh for, if such happiness could last forever? Ours followed the usual path—being brief and leaving behind lasting regrets."

"I had realised by play such a considerable sum of money, that I thought of investing a portion of it. My servants were not ignorant of my good luck, particularly my valet and Manon's own maid, before whom we often talked without any reserve. The maid was handsome, and my valet in love with her. They knew they had to deal with a young and inexperienced couple, whom they fancied they could impose upon without much difficulty. They laid a plan, and executed it with so much skill, that they reduced us to a state from which it was never afterwards possible for us to extricate ourselves.

"I had realized by playing such a significant amount of money that I should think about investing some of it. My servants were aware of my good fortune, especially my valet and Manon's maid, with whom we often spoke freely. The maid was attractive, and my valet was in love with her. They recognized they were dealing with a young and inexperienced couple, whom they thought they could deceive without much trouble. They devised a plan and carried it out so skillfully that they left us in a position from which we could never escape."

"Having supped one evening at Lescaut's, it was about midnight when we returned home. I asked for my valet, and Manon for her maid; neither one nor the other could be found. They had not been seen in the house since eight o'clock, and had gone out, after having some cases carried before them, according to orders which they pretended to have received from me. I at once foresaw a part of the truth, but my suspicions were infinitely surpassed by what presented itself on going into my room. The lock of my closet had been forced, and my cash as well as my best clothes were gone. While I stood stupefied with amazement, Manon came, in the greatest alarm, to inform me that her apartment had been rifled in the same manner.

"After having dinner one evening at Lescaut's, it was around midnight when we got back home. I asked for my valet, and Manon for her maid; neither could be found. They hadn’t been seen in the house since eight o’clock and had left after having some cases moved in front of them, supposedly following orders they claimed to have received from me. I immediately sensed part of the truth, but my suspicions were far outdone by what I found when I went into my room. The lock on my closet had been forced, and both my cash and my best clothes were gone. While I stood there in shock, Manon came to me, looking extremely worried, to tell me that her room had been ransacked in the same way."

"This blow was so perfectly astounding, so cruel, that it was with difficulty I could refrain from tears. The dread of infecting Manon with my despair made me assume a more contented air. I said, smiling, that I should avenge myself upon some unhappy dupe at the hotel of Transylvania. However, she appeared so sensibly affected, that her grief increased my sorrow infinitely more than my attempt succeeded in supporting her spirits. 'We are destroyed!' said she, with tears in her eyes. I endeavoured, in vain, by my entreaties and caresses, to console her. My own lamentations betrayed my distress and despair. In fact, we were so completely ruined, that we were bereft almost of decent covering.

"This blow was so incredibly shocking and cruel that it was hard for me to hold back my tears. The fear of passing my despair onto Manon made me put on a more cheerful face. I smiled and said I would take revenge on some unfortunate person at the hotel in Transylvania. However, she seemed so deeply affected that her grief made my sorrow grow even more than my attempt to lift her spirits. 'We are doomed!' she said, with tears in her eyes. I tried, but failed, to comfort her with my pleas and affection. My own cries revealed my distress and despair. The truth is, we were so utterly ruined that we were almost without anything decent to wear."

"I determined to send off at once for Lescaut. He advised me to go immediately to the lieutenant of police, and to give information also to the Grand Provost of Paris. I went, but it was to add to my calamities only; for, independently of my visit producing not the smallest good effect, I, by my absence, allowed Lescaut time for discussion with his sister, during which he did not fail to inspire her with the most horrible resolutions. He spoke to her about M. G—— M——, an old voluptuary, who paid prodigally for his pleasures; he so glowingly described the advantages of such a connection, that she entered into all his plans. This discreditable arrangement was all concluded before my return, and the execution of it only postponed till the next morning, after Lescaut should have apprised G—— M——.

"I decided to immediately contact Lescaut. He suggested I go straight to the police lieutenant and also inform the Grand Provost of Paris. I did, but it only made my troubles worse; my visit didn’t help at all, and by being away, I gave Lescaut the chance to talk with his sister, during which he definitely planted some terrible ideas in her head. He mentioned M. G—— M——, an old hedonist who paid lavishly for his pleasures; he described the perks of such a connection so vividly that she was all in with his plans. This shady arrangement was all set up before I got back, with the actual execution just postponed to the following morning, after Lescaut had notified G—— M——."

"I found him, on my return, waiting for me at my house; but Manon had retired to her own apartment, and she had desired the footman to tell me that, having need of repose, she hoped she should not be disturbed that night. Lescaut left me, after offering me a few crowns which I accepted.

"I found him waiting for me at my house when I got back; however, Manon had gone to her own room and asked the footman to tell me that she needed some rest and hoped not to be disturbed that night. Lescaut left me after offering me a few coins, which I accepted."

"It was nearly four o'clock when I retired to bed; and having revolved in my mind various schemes for retrieving my fortunes, I fell asleep so late that I did not awake till between eleven and twelve o'clock. I rose at once to enquire after Manon's health; they told me that she had gone out an hour before with her brother, who had come for her in a hired carriage. Although there appeared something mysterious in such a proceeding, I endeavoured to check my rising suspicions. I allowed some hours to pass, during which I amused myself with reading. At length, being unable any longer to stifle my uneasiness, I paced up and down the apartments. A sealed letter upon Manon's table at last caught my eye. It was addressed to me, and in her handwriting. I felt my blood freeze as I opened it; it was in these words:

"It was almost four o'clock when I went to bed, and after thinking about various plans to turn my luck around, I fell asleep so late that I didn’t wake up until between eleven and twelve o'clock. I got up immediately to check on Manon's health; they told me she had left an hour earlier with her brother, who had come to get her in a hired carriage. Although there seemed to be something mysterious about this, I tried to push my rising suspicions aside. I let a few hours go by while I distracted myself with some reading. Eventually, unable to suppress my anxiety any longer, I started pacing around the rooms. A sealed letter on Manon's table finally caught my attention. It was addressed to me, and it was in her handwriting. I felt my blood run cold as I opened it; it said:


I protest to you, dearest chevalier, that you are the idol of my heart, and that you are the only being on earth whom I can truly love; but do you not see, my own poor dear chevalier, that in the situation to which we are now reduced, fidelity would be worse than madness? Do you think tenderness possibly compatible with starvation? For my part, hunger would be sure to drive me to some fatal end. Heaving some day a sigh for love, I should find it was my last. I adore you, rely upon that; but leave to me, for a short while, the management of our fortunes. God help the man who falls into my hands. My only wish is to render my chevalier rich and happy. My brother will tell you about me; he can vouch for my grief in yielding to the necessity of parting from you.

I swear to you, my dearest knight, that you are the love of my life, and you are the only person I can truly care for; but don’t you see, my sweet knight, that in our current situation, being faithful would be crazier than anything? Do you really think that love can survive when we’re starving? Honestly, hunger would push me to a desperate end. One day, as I sigh for love, I might realize it’s my last moment. I adore you, you can count on that; but please, let me handle our situation for a little while. God help anyone who comes into my path. My only wish is to make you rich and happy. My brother will tell you more about me; he can confirm how heartbroken I am to have to say goodbye to you.


"I remained, after reading this, in a state which it would be difficult to describe; for even now I know not the nature of the feelings which then agitated me. It was one of those unique situations of which others can never have experienced anything even approaching to similarity. It is impossible to explain it, because other persons can have no idea of its nature; and one can hardly even analyse it to oneself. Memory furnishes nothing that will connect it with the past, and therefore ordinary language is inadequate to describe it. Whatever was its nature, however, it is certain that grief, hate, jealousy, and shame entered into its composition. Fortunate would it have proved for me if love also had not been a component part!

"I was left, after reading this, in a state that’s hard to describe; even now, I don’t understand the feelings that were stirring inside me. It was one of those unique situations that others can never truly relate to. It’s impossible to explain because others can’t grasp what it was like, and I can hardly analyze it for myself. Memory offers nothing to connect it to the past, so regular language just doesn’t cut it. Whatever it was, it definitely included grief, hate, jealousy, and shame. It would have been fortunate for me if love hadn’t been a part of it too!"

"'That she loves me,' I exclaimed, 'I can believe; but could she, without being a monster, hate me? What right can man ever have to woman's affections which I had not to Manon's? What is left to me, after all the sacrifices I have made for her sake? Yet she abandons me, and the ungrateful creature thinks to screen herself from my reproaches by professions of love! She pretends to dread starvation! God of love, what grossness of sentiment! What an answer to the refinement of my adoration! I had no dread of that kind; I, who have almost sought starvation for her sake, by renouncing fortune and the comforts of my father's house! I, who denied myself actual necessaries, in order to gratify her little whims and caprices! She adores me, she says. If you adored me, ungrateful creature, I well know what course you would have taken; you would never have quitted me, at least without saying adieu. It is only I who can tell the pangs and torments, of being separated from all one loves. I must have taken leave of my senses, to have voluntarily brought all this misery upon myself.'

"'That she loves me,' I exclaimed, 'I can believe; but could she, without being a monster, hate me? What right does any man have to a woman's love that I didn't have with Manon? What do I have left after all the sacrifices I've made for her? Yet she leaves me, and the ungrateful girl thinks she can shield herself from my accusations with declarations of love! She claims to fear starvation! God of love, what a lack of sensitivity! What an insult to the depth of my devotion! I had no such fears; I who have almost chosen to starve for her, by giving up wealth and the comforts of my father's home! I, who denied myself basic needs to indulge her little whims and desires! She says she adores me. If you truly adored me, ungrateful girl, I know exactly what you would have done; you would never have left me, at least not without saying goodbye. I’m the only one who knows the pain and torment of being separated from everything you love. I must have lost my mind to have willingly brought all this suffering on myself.'”

"My lamentations were interrupted by a visit I little expected; it was from Lescaut. 'Assassin!' cried I, putting my hand upon my sword, 'where is Manon? what have you done with her?' My agitation startled him. He replied, that if this was the reception he was to meet, when he came to offer me the most essential service it was in his power to render me, he should take his leave, and never again cross my threshold. I ran to the door of the apartment, which I shut. 'Do not imagine,' I said, turning towards him, 'that you can once more make a dupe of me with your lies and inventions. Either defend your life, or tell me where I can find Manon.' 'How impatient you are!' replied he; 'that was in reality the object of my visit. I came to announce a piece of good fortune which you little expected, and for which you will probably feel somewhat grateful.' My curiosity was at once excited.

My crying was cut short by an unexpected visitor: Lescaut. "You liar!" I shouted, reaching for my sword. "Where's Manon? What have you done with her?" My anger took him by surprise. He replied that if this was how he would be treated when trying to offer me the most valuable help he could, he’d just leave and never come back. I rushed to the door of the room and shut it. "Don't think," I said, turning to him, "that you can fool me with your lies again. Either fight for your life, or tell me where I can find Manon." "You're so impatient!" he replied. "That’s actually why I came. I have some good news you weren’t expecting, and you’ll probably be thankful for it." My curiosity was instantly piqued.

"He informed me that Manon, totally unable to endure the dread of want, and, above all, the certainty of being at once obliged to dispense with her equipage, had begged of him to make her acquainted with M. G—— M——, who had a character for liberality. He carefully avoided telling me that this was the result of his own advice, and that he had prepared the way before he introduced his sister. 'I took her there this morning,' said he, 'and the fellow was so enchanted with her looks that he at once invited her to accompany him to his country seat, where he is gone to pass some days. As I plainly perceived,' said Lescaut, 'the advantage it may be to you, I took care to let him know that she had lately experienced very considerable losses; and I so piqued his generosity that he began by giving her four hundred crowns. I told him that was well enough for a commencement, but that my sister would have, for the future, many demands for money; that she had the charge of a young brother, who had been thrown upon her hands since the death of our parents; and that, if he wished to prove himself worthy of her affections, he would not allow her to suffer uneasiness upon account of this child, whom she regarded as part of herself. This speech produced its effect, he at once promised to take a house for you and Manon, for you must know that you are the poor little orphan. He undertook to set you up in furniture, and to give you four hundred livres a month, which if I calculate rightly, will amount to four thousand eight hundred per annum. He left orders with his steward to look out for a house, and to have it in readiness by the time he returned. You will soon, therefore, again see Manon, who begged of me to give you a thousand tender messages, and to assure you that she loves you more dearly than ever.'"

"He told me that Manon, completely unable to handle the fear of poverty and, more importantly, the certainty of having to give up her belongings, had asked him to introduce her to M. G—— M——, who was known for being generous. He conveniently left out the fact that this was his own idea and that he had laid the groundwork before he introduced his sister. 'I took her there this morning,' he said, 'and the guy was so taken by her looks that he immediately invited her to come with him to his country house, where he's going to spend a few days. I could clearly see the benefit it might bring to you, so I made sure to let him know that she had recently suffered significant losses. I really appealed to his sense of generosity, and he started by giving her four hundred crowns. I told him that was a good start, but my sister would have many more financial needs in the future; she was responsible for a young brother who had been left in her care since our parents passed away, and if he wanted to prove himself deserving of her affection, he needed to ensure she didn’t worry about this child, whom she considered part of herself. This made an impression on him, and he immediately promised to rent a house for you and Manon, as you should know that you are the poor little orphan. He agreed to furnish it and to provide you with four hundred livres a month, which if I’m calculating correctly, totals four thousand eight hundred a year. He instructed his steward to find a house and have it ready by the time he comes back. So, you'll soon see Manon again, and she asked me to send you a thousand sweet messages and to assure you that she loves you more than ever."




V


Infected with that leprosy of lust,
Which taints the hoariest years of vicious men
Making them ransack to the very last
The dregs of pleasure for their vanished joys.
         BYRON.

Infected with that leprosy of lust,
Which taints the oldest years of wicked men
Making them search for the very last
The remnants of pleasure for their lost joys.
         BYRON.


"On sitting down to reflect upon this strange turn of fate, I found myself so perplexed, and consequently so incapable of arriving at any rational conclusion, that I allowed Lescaut to put repeated questions to me without in the slightest degree attending to their purport. It was then that honour and virtue made me feel the most poignant remorse, and that I recalled with bitterness Amiens, my father's house, St. Sulpice, and every spot where I had ever lived in happy innocence. By what a terrific interval was I now separated from that blessed state! I beheld it no longer but as a dim shadow in the distance, still attracting my regrets and desires, but without the power of rousing me to exertion. 'By what fatality,' said I, 'have I become thus degraded? Love is not a guilty passion! why then has it been to me the source of profligacy and distress? Who prevented me from leading a virtuous and tranquil life with Manon? Why did I not marry her before I obtained any concession from her love? Would not my father, who had the tenderest regard for me, have given his consent, if I had taken the fair and candid course of soliciting him? Yes, my father would himself have cherished her as one far too good to be his son's wife! I should have been happy in the love of Manon, in the affection of my father, in the esteem of the world, with a moderate portion of the good things of life, and above all with the consciousness of virtue. Disastrous change! Into what an infamous character is it here proposed that I should sink? To share—— But can I hesitate, if Manon herself suggests it, and if I am to lose her except upon such conditions? 'Lescaut,' said I, putting my hands to my eyes as if to shut out such a horrifying vision, 'if your intention was to render me a service, I give you thanks. You might perhaps have struck out a more reputable course, but it is so settled, is it not? Let us then only think of profiting by your labour, and fulfilling your engagements.'

"After sitting down to think about this strange twist of fate, I found myself so confused and unable to reach any rational conclusion that I let Lescaut ask me the same questions over and over without really paying attention to what he was saying. It was then that honor and virtue filled me with the deepest remorse, and I bitterly remembered Amiens, my father's home, St. Sulpice, and every place where I had lived in happy innocence. What a huge gap separated me from that blessed state now! I could only see it as a faint shadow in the distance, still pulling at my regrets and desires, but without the strength to motivate me to act. 'What fate has led me to this degradation?' I wondered. 'Love isn't a guilty passion! So why has it brought me nothing but disgrace and suffering? Who stopped me from leading a virtuous and peaceful life with Manon? Why didn’t I marry her before I ever received any promise of her love? Wouldn’t my father, who cared for me deeply, have given his consent if I had taken the honest approach in asking him? Yes, my father would have adored her as someone far too good to be his son's wife! I could have been happy with Manon's love, my father's affection, the respect of the world, a reasonable share of life's good things, and most importantly, the knowledge of being virtuous. What a disastrous change! What a disgraceful life am I about to embrace? To share— But can I hesitate if Manon herself suggests it, and if it means losing her without such conditions? 'Lescaut,' I said, covering my eyes as if to block out such a horrifying sight, 'if your intention was to help me, thank you. Perhaps you could have found a more respectable path, but this is how it stands, right? Let’s just focus on making the most of your efforts and honoring your commitments.'"

"Lescaut, who had been considerably embarrassed, not only by my fury, but by the long silence which followed it, was too happy to see me now take a course so different from what he had anticipated. He had not a particle of courage, of which indeed I have, in the sequel of my story, abundant proof. 'Yes, yes,' he quickly answered, 'it is good service I have rendered you, and you will find that we shall derive infinitely more advantage from it than you now expect.' We consulted then as to the best mode of preventing the suspicions which G—— M—— might entertain of our relationship, when he found me older and of riper manhood than he probably imagined. The only plan we could hit upon was to assume in his presence an innocent and provincial air, and to persuade him that it was my intention to enter the Church, and that with that view I was obliged to go every day to the college. We also determined that I should appear as awkward as I possibly could the first time I was admitted to the honour of an introduction.

Lescaut, who had been quite flustered, not only by my rage but also by the long silence that followed, was thrilled to see me now take a path so different from what he had expected. He had no courage at all, of which I have plenty of proof later in my story. "Yes, yes," he quickly replied, "I've done you a great service, and you'll see that we'll gain much more from it than you think right now." We then discussed how to avoid raising any suspicions that G—— M—— might have about our relationship when he saw that I was older and more mature than he likely imagined. The only strategy we could come up with was to act innocent and somewhat naïve in front of him, convincing him that I intended to join the Church and that I needed to go to the college every day for that reason. We also decided that I should present myself as awkward as possible the first time I got the honor of an introduction.

"He returned to town three or four days after, and at once conducted Manon to the house which his steward had in the meantime prepared. She immediately apprised Lescaut of her return, and he having informed me, we went together to her new abode. The old lover had already gone out.

"He came back to town three or four days later and immediately took Manon to the house that his steward had prepared in the meantime. She quickly let Lescaut know about her return, and after he informed me, we went together to her new place. The old boyfriend had already left."

"In spite of the submission with which I had resigned myself to her wishes, I could not, at our meeting, repress the compunctious visitings of my conscience. I appeared before her grieved and dejected. The joy I felt at seeing her once more could not altogether dispel my sorrow for her infidelity: she, on the contrary, appeared transported with the pleasure of seeing me. She accused me of coldness. I could not help muttering the words perfidious and unfaithful, though they were profusely mixed with sighs.

"Even though I had accepted her wishes, I couldn't hold back the guilt I felt during our meeting. I showed up looking sad and downcast. The happiness I felt seeing her again couldn’t completely erase my disappointment over her infidelity. She, on the other hand, looked thrilled to see me. She accused me of being distant. I couldn't help but mutter words like 'betrayer' and 'unfaithful,' even though they were mixed with deep sighs."

"At first she laughed at me for my simplicity; but when she found that I continued to look at her with an unchanging expression of melancholy, and that I could not bring myself to enter with alacrity into a scene so repugnant to all my feelings, she went alone into her boudoir. I very soon followed her, and then I found her in a flood of tears. I asked the cause of her sorrow. 'You can easily understand it,' said she; 'how can you wish me to live, if my presence can no longer have any other effect than to give you an air of sadness and chagrin? Not one kiss have you given me during the long hour you have been in the house, while you have received my caresses with the dignified indifference of a Grand Turk, receiving the forced homage of the Sultanas of his harem.'

"At first, she laughed at me for being so naive; but when she saw that I kept looking at her with a constant expression of sadness and that I couldn’t bring myself to join in a scene so against all my feelings, she went into her boudoir alone. I quickly followed her, and I found her in tears. I asked her what was wrong. 'You can easily understand,' she said; 'how can you want me to live if my presence does nothing but make you look sad and unhappy? You haven’t given me a single kiss during the entire hour you’ve been here, while you’ve accepted my affection with the aloofness of a Grand Turk, receiving the forced admiration of the Sultanas in his harem.'”

"'Hearken to me, Manon,' said I, embracing her; 'I cannot conceal from you that my heart is bitterly afflicted. I do not now allude to the uneasiness your sudden flight caused me, nor to the unkindness of quitting me without a word of consolation, after having passed the night away from me. The pleasure of seeing you again would more than compensate for all; but do you imagine that I can reflect without sighs and tears upon the degrading and unhappy life which you now wish me to lead in this house? Say nothing of my birth, or of my feelings of honour; love like mine derives no aid from arguments of that feeble nature; but do you imagine that I can without emotion see my love so badly recompensed, or rather so cruelly treated, by an ungrateful and unfeeling mistress?'

"'Listen to me, Manon,' I said, hugging her; 'I can't hide from you that my heart is really hurting. I'm not just talking about the worry your sudden departure caused me, nor the unkindness of leaving me without a comforting word after spending the night away from me. The joy of seeing you again would more than make up for everything; but do you think I can think about the humiliating and miserable life you want me to have in this house without sighing and crying? Don't mention my background or my sense of honor; love like mine doesn't get any support from weak arguments like that. But do you really think I can watch my love being so poorly rewarded, or rather so cruelly treated, by an ungrateful and unfeeling mistress?'”

"She interrupted me. 'Stop, chevalier,' said she, 'it is useless to torture me with reproaches, which, coming from you, always pierce my heart. I see what annoys you. I had hoped that you would have agreed to the project which I had devised for mending our shattered fortunes, and it was from a feeling of delicacy to you that I began the execution of it without your assistance; but I give it up since it does not meet your approbation.' She added that she would now merely request a little patient forbearance during the remainder of the day; that she had already received five hundred crowns from the old gentleman, and that he had promised to bring her that evening a magnificent pearl necklace with other jewels, and, in advance, half of the yearly pension he had engaged to allow her. 'Leave me only time enough,' said she to me, to get possession of these presents; I promise you that he will have little to boast of from his connection with me, for in the country I repulsed all his advances, putting him off till our return to town. It is true that he has kissed my hand a thousand times over, and it is but just that he should pay for even this amusement: I am sure that, considering his riches as well as his age, five or six thousand francs is not an unreasonable price!'

"She interrupted me. 'Stop, knight,' she said, 'there's no point in tormenting me with accusations, which, coming from you, always hurt my heart. I can see what's bothering you. I had hoped you would agree to the plan I came up with to fix our broken situation, and out of respect for you, I started working on it without your help; but I'll drop it since it doesn't meet your approval.' She added that all she wanted now was a bit of patience from me for the rest of the day; that she had already received five hundred crowns from the old gentleman, and he promised to bring her a beautiful pearl necklace and other jewels that evening, along with half of the yearly pension he had promised her. 'Just give me enough time,' she said to me, 'to get these gifts; I promise you that he won't have much to brag about from his relationship with me, since I turned down all his advances in the countryside, postponing everything until we got back to town. It's true that he has kissed my hand a thousand times, and it's only fair that he should pay for even that little pleasure: considering his wealth and his age, I believe five or six thousand francs is not an unreasonable price!'"

"Her determination was of more value in my eyes than twenty thousand crowns. I could feel that I was not yet bereft of every sentiment of honour, by the satisfaction I experienced at escaping thus from infamy. But I was born for brief joys, and miseries of long duration. Fate never rescued me from one precipice, but to lead me to another. When I had expressed my delight to Manon at this change in her intentions, I told her she had better inform Lescaut of it, in order that we might take our measures in concert. At first he murmured, but the money in hand induced him to enter into our views. It was then determined that we should all meet at G—— M——'s supper table, and that, for two reasons: first, for the amusement of passing me off as a schoolboy, and brother to Manon; and secondly, to prevent the old profligate from taking any liberties with his mistress, on the strength of his liberal payments in advance. Lescaut and I were to retire, when he went to the room where he expected to pass the night; and Manon, instead of following him, promised to come out, and join us. Lescaut undertook to have a coach waiting at the door.

"Her determination meant more to me than twenty thousand crowns. I could feel that I still had some sense of honor left, reflected in the relief I felt at escaping disgrace. But I was made for short moments of happiness and long-lasting misery. Fate never pulled me back from one cliff only to lead me to another. When I shared my joy with Manon about her change of intentions, I suggested she let Lescaut know so we could coordinate our plans. At first, he hesitated, but the cash we had convinced him to get on board with us. We decided to all meet at G—— M——'s dinner table for two reasons: first, to have fun pretending I was Manon's little brother; and second, to stop the old lecher from making any moves on his mistress, relying on his advance payments. Lescaut and I would leave when he went to the room where he expected to spend the night, and instead of following him, Manon promised to come out and join us. Lescaut agreed to have a taxi waiting outside."

"The supper hour having arrived, M. G—— M—— made his appearance. Already Lescaut was with his sister in the supper room. The moment the lover entered, he presented his fair one with a complete set of pearls, necklaces, ear-rings, and bracelets, which must have cost at least a thousand crowns. He then placed on the table before her, in louis d'or, two thousand four hundred francs, the half of her year's allowance. He seasoned his present with many pretty speeches in the true style of the old court. Manon could not refuse him a few kisses: it was sealing her right to the money which he had just handed to her. I was at the door, and waiting for Lescaut's signal to enter the room.

"The dinner hour arrived, and M. G—— M—— showed up. Lescaut was already in the dining room with his sister. As soon as the lover walked in, he gifted his beautiful partner a complete set of pearls—necklaces, earrings, and bracelets—that must have cost at least a thousand crowns. Then he placed two thousand four hundred francs in gold coins on the table in front of her, half of her yearly allowance. He wrapped his gift in charming words reminiscent of the old court. Manon couldn't refuse him a few kisses; it was like sealing her claim to the money he had just given her. I was at the door, waiting for Lescaut's signal to enter the room."

"He approached to take me by the hand, while Manon was securing the money and jewels, and leading me towards M. G—— M——, he desired me to make my bow. I made two or three most profound ones. 'Pray excuse him, sir,' said Lescaut, 'he is a mere child. He has not yet acquired much of the ton of Paris; but no doubt with a little trouble we shall improve him. You will often have the honour of seeing that gentleman, here,' said he, turning towards me: 'take advantage of it, and endeavour to imitate so good a model.'

"He came over to take my hand while Manon was gathering the money and jewels. As we headed toward M. G—— M——, he asked me to bow. I made two or three very deep bows. 'Please excuse him, sir,' said Lescaut, 'he's just a child. He hasn't picked up much of the Parisian style yet, but with a little effort, we’ll refine him. You'll have the honor of seeing that gentleman here often,' he said, looking at me: 'take advantage of it and try to emulate such a good example.'"

"The old libertine appeared to be pleased with me. He patted me on the cheek, saying that I was a fine boy, but that I should be on my guard in Paris, where young men were easily debauched. Lescaut assured him that I was naturally of so grave a character that I thought of nothing but becoming a clergyman, and that, even as a child, my favourite amusement was building little chapels. 'I fancy a likeness to Manon,' said the old gentleman, putting his hand under my chin. I answered him, with the most simple air— 'Sir, the fact is, that we are very closely connected, and I love my sister as another portion of myself.' 'Do you hear that,' said he to Lescaut; 'he is indeed a clever boy! It is a pity he should not see something of the world.' 'Oh, sir,' I replied, 'I have seen a great deal of it at home, attending church, and I believe I might find in Paris some greater fools than myself.' 'Listen,' said he; 'it is positively wonderful in a boy from the country.'

"The old libertine seemed pleased with me. He patted me on the cheek, saying I was a good boy, but that I should be careful in Paris, where young men could easily get into trouble. Lescaut assured him that I was naturally serious and only thought about becoming a clergyman, and that even as a child, my favorite pastime was building little chapels. 'I see a resemblance to Manon,' said the old gentleman, lifting my chin. I replied with the simplest expression, 'Sir, the truth is we are very closely related, and I love my sister as if she were part of me.' 'Did you hear that?' he said to Lescaut; 'he is indeed a smart boy! It's a shame he shouldn't see more of the world.' 'Oh, sir,' I replied, 'I've seen a lot of it at home, going to church, and I believe I might find some bigger fools than myself in Paris.' 'Listen,' he said; 'it's truly amazing coming from a boy from the countryside.'

"The whole conversation during supper was of the same kind. Manon, with her usual gaiety, was several times on the point of spoiling the joke by her bursts of laughter. I contrived, while eating, to recount his own identical history, and to paint even the fate that awaited him. Lescaut and Manon were in an agony of fear during my recital, especially while I was drawing his portrait to the life: but his own vanity prevented him from recognising it, and I did it so well that he was the first to pronounce it extremely laughable. You will allow that I had reason for dwelling on this ridiculous scene.

The entire conversation at dinner was pretty much the same. Manon, as always, was so cheerful that she nearly ruined the joke with her laughter several times. While eating, I managed to share his exact story and even foreshadowed what was in store for him. Lescaut and Manon were both terrified during my storytelling, especially when I was vividly describing him: but his own vanity kept him from seeing it, and I did such a good job that he was the first to find it incredibly funny. You can see why I felt justified in focusing on this ridiculous scene.

"At length it was time to retire. He hinted at the impatience of love. Lescaut and I took our departure. G—— M—— went to his room, and Manon, making some excuse for her absence, came to join us at the gate. The coach, that was waiting for us a few doors off, drove up towards us, and we were out of the street in an instant.

"Finally, it was time to leave. He hinted at the impatience of love. Lescaut and I said our goodbyes. G—— M—— went to his room, and Manon, making some excuse for her absence, came to join us at the gate. The coach, waiting for us just a few doors down, pulled up, and we were out of the street in no time."

"Although I must confess that this proceeding appeared to me little short of actual robbery, it was not the most dishonest one with which I thought I had to reproach myself. I had more scruples about the money which I had won at play. However, we derived as little advantage from one as from the other; and Heaven sometimes ordains that the lightest fault shall meet the severest punishment.

"Although I have to admit that this situation felt almost like actual robbery, it wasn't the most dishonest thing I thought I had to feel guilty about. I felt more guilty about the money I won from gambling. However, we benefited just as little from one as from the other; and sometimes fate decides that the smallest mistakes deserve the harshest consequences."

"M. G—— M—— was not long in finding out that he had been duped. I am not sure whether he took any steps that night to discover us, but he had influence enough to ensure an effectual pursuit, and we were sufficiently imprudent to rely upon the extent of Paris and the distance between our residence and his. Not only did he discover our abode and our circumstances, but also who I was—the life that I had led in Paris—Manon's former connection with B——,—the manner in which she had deceived him: in a word, all the scandalous facts of our history. He therefore resolved to have us apprehended, and treated less as criminals than as vagabonds. An officer came abruptly one morning into our bedroom, with half a dozen archers of the guard. They first took possession of our money, or I should rather say, of G——M——'s. They made us quickly get up, and conducted us to the door, where we found two coaches, into one of which they forced poor Manon, without any explanation, and I was taken in the other to St. Lazare.

M. G—— M—— quickly realized he had been tricked. I’m not sure if he did anything that night to find us, but he had enough influence to launch a serious search, and we were careless enough to think the size of Paris and the distance between our place and his would protect us. Not only did he track down where we lived and our situation, but he also learned who I was—the life I had led in Paris—Manon’s past with B——, and the way she had deceived him: in short, all the scandalous details of our story. He therefore decided to have us arrested, treating us less like criminals and more like vagrants. One morning, an officer barged into our bedroom with half a dozen guards. They first confiscated our money, or rather, G—— M——'s money. They hurried us out of bed and escorted us to the door, where we found two coaches. They forced poor Manon into one without any explanation, while I was taken in the other to St. Lazare.

"One must have experienced this kind of reverse, to understand the despair that is caused by it. The police were savage enough to deny me the consolation of embracing Manon, or of bidding her farewell. I remained for a long time ignorant of her fate. It was perhaps fortunate for me that I was kept in a state of ignorance, for had I known what she suffered, I should have lost my senses, probably my life.

"One has to have experienced this kind of setback to really grasp the despair it brings. The police were brutal enough to deny me the comfort of holding Manon or saying goodbye to her. I was in the dark about her fate for a long time. Maybe it was for the best that I didn’t know what she was going through, because if I had, I probably would have lost my mind—and maybe even my life."

"My unhappy mistress was dragged then from my presence, and taken to a place the very name of which fills me with horror to remember. This to be the lot of a creature the most perfect, who must have shared the most splendid throne on earth, if other men had only seen and felt as I did! She was not treated harshly there, but was shut up in a narrow prison, and obliged, in solitary confinement, to perform a certain quantity of work each day, as a necessary condition for obtaining the most unpalatable food. I did not learn this till a long time after, when I had myself endured some months of rough and cruel treatment.

"My unhappy mistress was then dragged away from me and taken to a place that fills me with dread just to think about. How could this happen to such a perfect being, who could have shared the most magnificent throne on earth if only others had seen and felt as I did! She wasn't treated cruelly there, but was confined in a cramped cell, forced to do a certain amount of work each day just to earn the most distasteful food. I didn’t find out about this until much later, after I had already suffered months of harsh and brutal treatment myself."

"My guards not having told me where it was that they had been ordered to conduct me, it was only on my arrival at St. Lazare that I learned my destination. I would have preferred death, at that moment, to the state into which I believed myself about to be thrown. I had the utmost terror of this place. My misery was increased by the guards on my entrance, examining once more my pockets, to ascertain whether I had about me any arms or weapons of defence.

"My guards didn’t tell me where they were taking me, so I only found out my destination when I arrived at St. Lazare. At that moment, I would have rather faced death than the fate I thought awaited me. I was extremely terrified of this place. My distress grew when the guards searched my pockets again to check if I had any weapons or means of defense."

"The governor appeared. He had been informed of my apprehension. He saluted me with great mildness. 'Do not, my good sir,' said I to him, 'allow me to be treated with indignity. I would suffer a hundred deaths rather than quietly submit to degrading treatment.' 'No, no,' he replied, 'you will act quietly and prudently, and we shall be mutually content with each other.' He begged of me to ascend to one of the highest rooms; I followed him without a murmur. The archers accompanied us to the door, and the governor, entering the room, made a sign for them to depart. 'I am your prisoner, I suppose?' said I; 'well, what do you intend to do with me?' He said, he was delighted to see me adopt so reasonable a tone; that it would be his duty to endeavour to inspire me with a taste for virtue and religion, and mine to profit by his exhortations and advice: that lightly as I might be disposed to rate his attentions to me, I should find nothing but enjoyment in my solitude. 'Ah, enjoyment, indeed!' replied I; 'you do not know, my good sir, the only thing on earth that could afford me enjoyment.' 'I know it,' said he, 'but I trust your inclinations will change.' His answer showed that he had heard of my adventures, and perhaps of my name. I begged to know if such were the fact. He told me candidly that they had informed him of every particular.

The governor showed up. He had been told about my worries. He greeted me calmly. "Please don't treat me disrespectfully," I said to him. "I would rather face a hundred deaths than accept humiliation." "No, no," he replied, "you will behave calmly and wisely, and we'll both be satisfied." He asked me to go up to one of the top rooms; I followed him without complaint. The archers came with us to the door, and the governor, entering the room, signaled for them to leave. "I guess I'm your prisoner?" I said. "So, what do you plan to do with me?" He said he was glad I was speaking so reasonably; it was his duty to try to inspire me with a sense of virtue and religion, and it was my responsibility to take his advice. Even if I thought lightly of his concern for me, I would find enjoyment in my solitude. "Enjoyment, really!" I replied. "You don't understand, my good sir, the only thing on earth that could bring me joy." "I do know," he said, "but I hope your feelings will change." His response indicated that he had heard about my adventures, and possibly about my name. I asked if that was true. He honestly told me that they had informed him of every detail.

"This blow was the severest of any I had yet experienced. I literally shed a torrent of tears, in all the bitterness of unmixed despair; I could not reconcile myself to the humiliation which would make me a proverb to all my acquaintances, and the disgrace of my family. I passed a week in the most profound dejection, without being capable of gaining any information, or of occupying myself with anything but my own degradation. The remembrance even of Manon added nothing to my grief; it only occurred to me as a circumstance that had preceded my new sorrow; and the sense of shame and confusion was at present the all-absorbing passion.

"This hit was the worst of anything I had faced so far. I literally cried a flood of tears, consumed by pure despair; I couldn't come to terms with the humiliation that would turn me into a joke among my friends and bring shame to my family. I spent a week in deep sadness, unable to find out any information or focus on anything other than my own downfall. Even thinking about Manon did nothing to ease my pain; it only reminded me of something that had happened before this new heartbreak, and right now, the feeling of shame and confusion was all that mattered."

"There are few persons who have experienced the force of these special workings of the mind. The generality of men are only sensible of five or six passions, in the limited round of which they pass their lives, and within which all their agitations are confined. Remove them from the influence of love and hate, pleasure and pain, hope and fear, and they have no further feeling. But persons of a finer cast can be affected in a thousand different ways; it would almost seem that they had more than five senses, and that they are accessible to ideas and sensations which far exceed the ordinary faculties of human nature; and, conscious that they possess a capacity which raises them above the common herd, there is nothing of which they are more jealous. Hence springs their impatience under contempt and ridicule; and hence it is that a sense of debasement is perhaps the most violent of all their emotions.

"There are few people who have felt the power of these unique workings of the mind. Most individuals are only aware of five or six emotions, within the limited scope of their lives, and all their feelings are confined to those. Take them away from the influences of love and hate, pleasure and pain, hope and fear, and they feel nothing more. But people of a more refined nature can be moved in countless ways; it almost seems like they have more than five senses, and they are open to ideas and sensations that far exceed the usual capabilities of human nature. Aware that they have an ability that elevates them above the ordinary, nothing makes them more defensive. This is why they become impatient with contempt and ridicule, and it's also why a sense of being belittled is perhaps the strongest of all their emotions."

"I had this melancholy advantage at St. Lazare. My grief appeared to the governor so excessive, that, dreading the consequences, he thought he was bound to treat me with more mildness and indulgence. He visited me two or three times a day; he often made me take a turn with him in the garden, and showed his interest for me in his exhortations and good advice. I listened always attentively; and warmly expressed my sense of his kindness, from which he derived hopes of my ultimate conversion.

"I had this sad advantage at St. Lazare. My grief seemed so overwhelming to the governor that he worried about the consequences and felt obligated to treat me with more kindness and leniency. He visited me two or three times a day, often took walks with me in the garden, and showed his concern for me through his words of encouragement and advice. I always listened closely and sincerely expressed my gratitude for his kindness, which gave him hope for my eventual change of heart."

"'You appear to me,' said he one day, 'of a disposition so mild and tractable, that I cannot comprehend the excesses into which you have fallen. Two things astonish me: one is, how, with your good qualities, you could have ever abandoned yourself to vice; and the other, which amazes me still more, is, how you can receive with such perfect temper my advice and instructions, after having lived so long in a course of debauchery. If it be sincere repentance, you present a singular example of the benign mercy of Heaven; if it proceed from the natural goodness of your disposition, then you certainly have that within you which warrants the hope that a protracted residence in this place will not be required to bring you back to a regular and respectable life.'

"'You seem to me,' he said one day, 'to have such a gentle and accommodating nature that I can’t understand how you got into such extreme trouble. Two things surprise me: one is how, with all your good qualities, you could ever give in to vice; and the other, which surprises me even more, is how you can accept my advice and guidance so calmly after living such a wild life for so long. If this is genuine repentance, you’re a remarkable example of the kind mercy of Heaven; if it’s just the natural goodness in you, then you definitely have what it takes to make me hopeful that you won’t need to stay here long to return to a respectable life.'”

"I was delighted to find that he had such an opinion of me. I resolved to strengthen it by a continuance of good conduct, convinced that it was the surest means of abridging the term of my confinement. I begged of him to furnish me with books. He was agreeably surprised to find that when he requested me to say what I should prefer, I mentioned only some religious and instructive works. I pretended to devote myself assiduously to study, and I thus gave him convincing proof of the moral reformation he was so anxious to bring about. It was nothing, however, but rank hypocrisy—I blush to confess it. Instead of studying, when alone I did nothing but curse my destiny. I lavished the bitterest execrations on my prison, and the tyrants who detained me there. If I ceased for a moment from these lamentations, it was only to relapse into the tormenting remembrance of my fatal and unhappy love. Manon's absence—the mystery in which her fate was veiled—the dread of never again beholding her; these formed the subject of my melancholy thoughts. I fancied her in the arms of G—— M——. Far from imagining that he could have been brute enough to subject her to the same treatment to which I was condemned, I felt persuaded that he had only procured my removal, in order that he might possess her in undisturbed enjoyment.

I was thrilled to discover that he thought so highly of me. I decided to strengthen that opinion by continuing to behave well, believing it was the best way to shorten my time in confinement. I asked him to provide me with books. He was pleasantly surprised when I said I wanted only some religious and educational works. I pretended to throw myself into studying, which seemed to prove the moral change he was eager to see in me. However, it was nothing but pure hypocrisy—I’m embarrassed to admit it. Instead of studying, when I was alone, I just cursed my fate. I unleashed the bitterest curses on my prison and the tyrants who kept me there. If I paused from my lamenting, it was only to fall back into the torturous memories of my doomed and unhappy love. Manon's absence—the mystery surrounding her fate—the fear of never seeing her again; these were the subjects of my dark thoughts. I pictured her in G—— M——'s arms. Instead of considering that he could be cruel enough to treat her the same way I was being treated, I was convinced that he had only arranged for my removal so he could enjoy her without interruption.

"Oh! how miserable were the days and nights I thus passed! They seemed to be of endless duration. My only hope of escape now, was in hypocrisy; I scrutinised the countenance, and carefully marked every observation that fell from the governor, in order to ascertain what he really thought of me; and looking on him as the sole arbiter of my future fate, I made it my study to win, if possible, his favour. I soon had the satisfaction to find that I was firmly established in his good graces, and no longer doubted his disposition to befriend me.

"Oh! how miserable were the days and nights I spent like this! They felt like they would never end. My only hope for escape now was through deception; I closely examined the governor's face and noted everything he said to figure out what he really thought of me. Seeing him as the only judge of my future, I made it my goal to win, if possible, his favor. I quickly found satisfaction in knowing that I had firmly gained his good graces and no longer doubted his willingness to help me."

"I, one day, ventured to ask him whether my liberation depended on him. He replied that it was not altogether in his hands, but that he had no doubt that on his representation M. G—— M——, at whose instance the lieutenant-general of police had ordered me to be confined, would consent to my being set at liberty. 'May I flatter myself,' rejoined I, in the mildest tone, 'that he will consider two months, which I have now spent in this prison, as a sufficient atonement?' He offered to speak to him, if I wished it. I implored him without delay to do me that favour.

"I once asked him if my freedom depended on him. He replied that it wasn't entirely in his control, but he was confident that, based on his recommendation, M. G—— M——, who had asked the lieutenant-general of police to have me confined, would agree to my release. 'Can I hope,' I said gently, 'that he will think two months in this prison is enough punishment?' He offered to talk to him if I wanted. I urgently begged him to do me that favor."

"He told me two days afterwards that G—— M—— was so sensibly affected by what he had heard, that he not only was ready to consent to my liberation, but that he had even expressed a strong desire to become better acquainted with me, and that he himself purposed to pay me a visit in prison. Although his presence could not afford me much pleasure, I looked upon it as a certain prelude to my liberation.

"He told me two days later that G—— M—— was very moved by what he had heard, and not only agreed to my release, but also expressed a strong interest in getting to know me better and planned to visit me in prison. Even though his visit wouldn't bring me much joy, I saw it as a definite sign that my release was coming."

"He accordingly came to St. Lazare. I met him with an air more grave and certainly less silly than I had exhibited at his house with Manon. He spoke reasonably enough of my former bad conduct. He added, as if to excuse his own delinquencies, that it was graciously permitted to the weakness of man to indulge in certain pleasures, almost, indeed, prompted by nature, but that dishonesty and such shameful practices ought to be, and always would be, inexorably punished.

He accordingly came to St. Lazare. I met him with a more serious demeanor and definitely less foolishness than I had shown at his house with Manon. He spoke rationally about my past poor behavior. He added, as if to justify his own wrongdoings, that it was in human nature to indulge in certain pleasures, almost driven by instinct, but that dishonesty and such disgraceful actions should always be, and would always be, relentlessly punished.

"I listened to all he said with an air of submission, which quite charmed him. I betrayed no symptoms of annoyance even at some jokes in which he indulged about my relationship with Manon and Lescaut, and about the little chapels of which he supposed I must have had time to erect a great many in St. Lazare, as I was so fond of that occupation. But he happened, unluckily both for me and for himself, to add, that he hoped Manon had also employed herself in the same edifying manner at the Magdalen. Notwithstanding the thrill of horror I felt at the sound of the name, I had still presence of mind enough to beg, in the gentlest manner, that he would explain himself. 'Oh! yes,' he replied, 'she has been these last two months at the Magdalen learning to be prudent, and I trust she has improved herself as much there, as you have done at St. Lazare!'

"I listened to everything he said with a submissive attitude, which really charmed him. I showed no signs of annoyance, even at some jokes he made about my relationship with Manon and Lescaut, and about the little chapels he thought I must have built a lot of while I enjoyed that hobby. But unfortunately, for both me and him, he added that he hoped Manon had also spent her time in a similar enlightening way at the Magdalen. Despite the wave of horror I felt at hearing that name, I still managed to calmly ask him to explain. 'Oh! Yes,' he responded, 'she has been at the Magdalen for the last two months learning to be careful, and I hope she has bettered herself there as much as you have at St. Lazare!'"

"If an eternal imprisonment, or death itself, had been presented to my view, I could not have restrained the excitement into which this afflicting announcement threw me. I flung myself upon him in so violent a rage that half my strength was exhausted by the effort. I had, however, more than enough left to drag him to the ground, and grasp him by the throat. I should infallibly have strangled him, if his fall, and the half-stifled cries which he had still the power to utter, had not attracted the governor and several of the priests to my room. They rescued him from my fury.

"If an eternal prison or death itself had been offered to me, I couldn't have held back the rush of emotions that this heartbreaking news caused. I threw myself at him in such a wild rage that I nearly exhausted my strength. However, I still had enough left to bring him down and grab him by the throat. I would have definitely strangled him if his fall and the muffled cries he managed to make hadn't drawn the governor and a few priests to my room. They saved him from my wrath."

"I was, myself, breathless and almost impotent from rage. 'Oh God!' I cried—'Heavenly justice! Must I survive this infamy?' I tried again to seize the barbarian who had thus roused my indignation—they prevented me. My despair—my cries—my tears, exceeded all belief: I raved in so incoherent a manner that all the bystanders, who were ignorant of the cause, looked at each other with as much dread as surprise.

I was completely breathless and almost powerless with rage. "Oh God!" I yelled—"Heavenly justice! Do I have to live through this disgrace?" I tried again to grab the barbarian who had stirred my anger, but they stopped me. My despair—my screams—my tears were beyond what anyone could believe: I was so incoherent that all the onlookers, who didn’t know what was happening, looked at each other in equal parts fear and surprise.

"G—— M—— in the meantime adjusted his wig and cravat, and in his anger at having been so ill-treated, ordered me to be kept under more severe restraint than before, and to be punished in the manner usual with offenders in St. Lazare. 'No, sir!' said the governor, 'it is not with a person of his birth that we are in the habit of using such means of coercion; besides, he is habitually so mild and well-conducted, that I cannot but think you must have given provocation for such excessive violence.' This reply disconcerted G—— M—— beyond measure and he went away, declaring that he knew how to be revenged on the governor, as well as on me, and everyone else who dared to thwart him.

"G—— M—— meanwhile fixed his wig and cravat, and out of anger for how poorly he had been treated, ordered me to be kept under even stricter restraint than before and to be punished in the usual way for offenders in St. Lazare. 'No, sir!' said the governor, 'we don’t normally use such means of control on someone of his background; besides, he is usually so mild and well-behaved that I can’t help but think you must have provoked such extreme behavior.' This response completely threw G—— M—— off balance, and he left, claiming he knew how to get back at the governor, as well as at me and anyone else who dared to stand in his way."

"The Superior, having ordered some of the brotherhood to escort him out of the prison, remained alone with me. He conjured me to tell him at once what was the cause of the fracas.—'Oh, my good sir!' said I to him, continuing to cry like a child, 'imagine the most horrible cruelty, figure to yourself the most inhuman of atrocities—that is what G—— M—— has had the cowardly baseness to perpetrate: he has pierced my heart. Never shall I recover from this blow! I would gladly tell you the whole circumstance,' added I, sobbing with grief; 'you are kind-hearted, and cannot fail to pity me.'

"The Superior, after asking some of the brotherhood to escort him out of the prison, was left alone with me. He urged me to tell him right away what caused the commotion. —'Oh, my good sir!' I said to him, still crying like a child, 'imagine the most horrible cruelty, picture the most inhumane of atrocities—that’s what G—— M—— has had the cowardly audacity to do: he has pierced my heart. I will never recover from this blow! I would gladly share the whole story with you,' I added, sobbing with grief; 'you are kind-hearted, and I know you will feel for me.'"

"I gave him, as briefly as I could, a history of my long-standing and insurmountable passion for Manon, of the flourishing condition of our fortunes previous to the robbery committed by our servants, of the offers which G—— M—— had made to my mistress, of the understanding they had come to, and the manner in which it had been defeated. To be sure, I represented things to him in as favourable a light for us as possible. 'Now you can comprehend,' continued I, 'the source of M. G—— M——'s holy zeal for my conversion. He has had influence enough to have me shut up here, out of mere revenge. That I can pardon; but, my good sir, that is not all. He has taken from me my heart's blood: he has had Manon shamefully incarcerated in the Magdalen; and had the effrontery to announce it to me this day with his own lips. In the Magdalen, good sir! Oh heavens! my adorable mistress, my beloved Manon, a degraded inmate of the Hospital! How shall I command strength of mind enough to survive this grief and shame!'

"I quickly told him about my long-time and overwhelming love for Manon, how our fortunes were thriving before our servants robbed us, the offers that G—— M—— made to my mistress, the agreement they had reached, and how it all fell apart. Of course, I tried to present everything in the best light for us. 'Now you understand,' I continued, 'why M. G—— M—— is so eager for my conversion. He had enough influence to have me locked away just out of spite. I can forgive that; but, my good sir, that's not all. He has taken away my heart's desire: he has shamefully had Manon imprisoned in the Magdalen; and he even had the nerve to tell me about it himself today. In the Magdalen, my good sir! Oh heaven! My beloved mistress, my darling Manon, a fallen resident of the hospital! How can I find the strength to endure this grief and humiliation!'"

"The good Father, seeing me in such affliction, endeavoured to console me. He told me that he had never understood my history, as I just now related it; he had of course known that I led a dissolute life, but he had imagined that M. G—— M——'s interest about me was the result of his esteem and friendship for my family; that it was in this sense he had explained the matter to him; that what I had now told him should assuredly produce a change in my treatment, and that he had no doubt but the accurate detail which he should immediately transmit to the lieutenant-general of police would bring about my liberation.

The good Father, seeing me in such distress, tried to comfort me. He told me he had never fully understood my story, as I had just shared it; he knew I lived a wild life, but he thought that M. G—— M——'s concern for me stemmed from his respect and friendship for my family. He had explained it to him that way; he believed that what I had just revealed would definitely change how I was treated, and he was confident that the detailed report he would send to the lieutenant-general of police would lead to my release.

"He then enquired why I had never thought of informing my family of what had taken place, since they had not been instrumental to my incarceration. I satisfactorily answered this by stating my unwillingness to cause my father pain, or to bring upon myself the humiliation of such an exposure. In the end, he promised to go directly to the lieutenant-general of police if it were only, said he, to be beforehand with M. G—— M——, who went off in such a rage, and who had sufficient influence to make himself formidable.

He then asked why I had never considered telling my family about what happened, since they weren't responsible for my imprisonment. I explained my reluctance to cause my father any pain, or to subject myself to the embarrassment of such a revelation. In the end, he promised to go straight to the lieutenant-general of police, if only, as he put it, to get ahead of M. G—— M——, who left in such a fury and had enough influence to be a real threat.

"I looked for the good Father's return with all the suspense of a man expecting sentence of death. It was torture to me to think of Manon at the Magdalen. Besides the infamy of such a prison, I knew not how she might be treated there; and the recollection of some particulars I had formerly heard of this horrible place, incessantly renewed my misery. Cost what it might, I was so bent upon relieving her by some means or other, that I should assuredly have set fire to St. Lazare, if no other mode of escape had presented itself.

I waited for the good Father's return with all the tension of someone awaiting a death sentence. It was agonizing to think of Manon at the Magdalen. Besides the shame of being in such a place, I couldn’t imagine how she might be treated there, and the memory of things I had previously heard about that dreadful place only deepened my suffering. No matter the cost, I was determined to help her in any way I could, and I would have definitely set fire to St. Lazare if no other way out had shown itself.

"I considered what chances would remain to me if the lieutenant-general still kept me in confinement. I taxed my ingenuity: I scanned every imaginable gleam of hope—I could discover nothing that gave me any prospect of escape, and I feared that I should experience only more rigid confinement, if I made an unsuccessful attempt. I thought of some friends from whom I might hope for aid, but then, how was I to make them aware of my situation? At length I fancied that I had hit upon a plan so ingenious, as to offer a fair probability of success. I postponed the details of its arrangement until after the Superior's return, in case of his having failed in the object of his visit.

I thought about what chances I would have if the lieutenant-general kept me locked up. I pushed my imagination to the limits; I looked for every possible glimmer of hope—but I couldn't find anything that suggested I could escape, and I worried that if I tried and failed, I'd only face even harsher confinement. I considered a few friends who might help me, but then I realized I had no way to let them know what was happening to me. Eventually, I thought I had come up with a clever plan that might actually work. I decided to wait until the Superior returned to sort out the details in case his visit didn’t go as planned.

"He soon arrived: I did not observe upon his countenance any of those marks of joy that indicate good news. 'I have spoken,' said he, 'to the lieutenant-general of police, but I was too late, M. G—— M—— went straight to him after quitting us, and so prejudiced him against you, that he was on the point of sending me fresh instructions to subject you to closer confinement.

He soon arrived: I didn’t see any signs of joy on his face that would suggest good news. "I spoke to the lieutenant-general of police," he said, "but I was too late. M. G—— M—— went straight to him after leaving us and convinced him against you, so he was about to send me new orders to put you in tighter confinement.

"'However, when I let him know the truth of your story, he reconsidered the matter, and, smiling at the incontinence of old G—— M——, he said it would be necessary to keep you here for six months longer, in order to pacify him; the less to be lamented,' he added, 'because your morals would be sure to benefit by your residence here. He desired that I would show you every kindness and attention, and I need not assure you that you shall have no reason to complain of your treatment.'

"'However, when I told him the truth about your situation, he thought it over again and, smiling at the foolishness of old G—— M——, he said it would be necessary to keep you here for six more months to calm him down; the less regrettable,' he added, 'because your character would definitely improve during your time here. He asked me to show you every kindness and attention, and I assure you that you won’t have any reason to complain about how you’re treated.'"

"This speech of the Superior's was long enough to afford me time to form a prudent resolution. I saw that by betraying too strong an impatience for my liberty, I should probably be upsetting all my projects. I acknowledged to him, that, as it was necessary to me to remain, it was an infinite comfort to know that I possessed a place in his esteem. I then requested, and with unaffected sincerity, a favour, which could be of no consequence to others, and which would contribute much to my peace of mind; it was to inform a friend of mine, a devout clergyman, who lived at St. Sulpice, that I was at St. Lazare, and to permit me occasionally to receive his visits.

"This speech from the Superior went on long enough for me to come up with a careful plan. I realized that if I showed too much eagerness for my freedom, I would likely ruin all my plans. I admitted to him that, since I needed to stay, it was a huge relief to know I had a place in his respect. I then asked, genuinely, for a favor that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else but would greatly help my peace of mind; it was to let a friend of mine, a devoted clergyman living in St. Sulpice, know that I was at St. Lazare and to allow me to occasionally receive his visits."

"This was of course my friend Tiberge; not that I could hope from him the assistance necessary for effecting my liberty; but I wished to make him the unconscious instrument of my designs. In a word, this was my project: I wished to write to Lescaut, and to charge him and our common friends with the task of my deliverance. The first difficulty was to have my letter conveyed to him: this should be Tiberge's office. However, as he knew him to be Manon's brother, I doubted whether he would take charge of this commission. My plan was to enclose my letter to Lescaut in another to some respectable man of my acquaintance, begging of him to transmit the first to its address without delay; and as it was necessary that I should have personal communication with Lescaut, in order to arrange our proceedings, I told him to call on me at St. Lazare, and assume the name of my eldest brother, as if he had come to Paris expressly to see me. I postponed till our meeting all mention of the safest and most expeditious course I intended to suggest for our future conduct. The governor informed Tiberge of my wish to see him. This ever-faithful friend had not so entirely lost sight of me as to be ignorant of my present abode, and it is probable that, in his heart, he did not regret the circumstance, from an idea that it might furnish the means of my moral regeneration. He lost no time in paying me the desired visit."

"This was, of course, my friend Tiberge; not that I expected him to provide the help I needed to secure my freedom, but I wanted him to unknowingly facilitate my plans. In short, here was my idea: I wanted to write to Lescaut and ask him and our mutual friends to help me escape. The first challenge was to get my letter to him: that would be Tiberge's job. However, since he knew Lescaut was Manon's brother, I wasn’t sure if he would be willing to take on this task. My plan was to enclose my letter to Lescaut in another letter addressed to a respectable acquaintance of mine, asking him to send the first letter to its destination without delay; and since I needed to speak with Lescaut in person to figure out our next steps, I told him to visit me at St. Lazare and pretend to be my oldest brother, as if he had come to Paris just to see me. I decided to wait until we met to discuss the safest and quickest plan I had in mind for our future actions. The governor informed Tiberge of my request to see him. This ever-loyal friend hadn't completely forgotten about me and was likely aware of my current situation, perhaps secretly hoping it might lead to my moral improvement. He wasted no time in coming to see me."




VI


It is a strange thing to note the excess of this passion; and how it braves the nature and value of things, by this—that the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing but in love.—BACON.

It’s interesting to observe the intensity of this passion; how it challenges the nature and importance of things, in that speaking in constant exaggeration is only fitting in love.—BACON.


"My interview with Tiberge was of the most friendly description. I saw that his object was to discover the present temper of my mind. I opened my heart to him without any reserve, except as to the mere point of my intention of escaping. 'It is not from such a friend as you,' said I, 'that I can ever wish to dissemble my real feelings. If you flattered yourself with a hope that you were at last about to find me grown prudent and regular in my conduct, a libertine reclaimed by the chastisements of fortune, released alike from the trammels of love, and the dominion that Manon wields over me, I must in candour say, that you deceive yourself. You still behold me, as you left me four months ago, the slave—if you will, the unhappy slave—of a passion, from which I now hope, as fervently and as confidently as I ever did, to derive eventually solid comfort.'

"My interview with Tiberge was very friendly. I could tell he wanted to gauge how I’m feeling these days. I opened up to him without holding back, except for the fact that I didn’t mention my plan to escape. 'It’s not someone like you,' I said, 'that I would ever want to hide my true feelings from. If you thought there was finally a chance I had become more sensible and settled, a libertine reformed by the lessons of life, freed from the hold of love and the power that Manon has over me, I have to honestly say you’re mistaken. You still see me like you did four months ago, the slave—if you prefer, the unhappy slave—of a passion that I still hope, just as passionately and confidently as ever, will eventually bring me real comfort.'

"He answered, that such an acknowledgment rendered me utterly inexcusable; that it was no uncommon case to meet sinners who allowed themselves to be so dazzled with the glare of vice as to prefer it openly to the true splendour of virtue; they were at least deluded by the false image of happiness, the poor dupes of an empty shadow; but to know and feel as I did, that the object of my attachment was only calculated to render me culpable and unhappy, and to continue thus voluntarily in a career of misery and crime, involved a contradiction of ideas and of conduct little creditable to my reason.

"He replied that this acknowledgment made me completely inexcusable; that it wasn’t uncommon to find people who were so blinded by the allure of vice that they openly preferred it over the true shine of virtue. They were at least misled by a false sense of happiness, poor fools chasing an empty illusion; but to know and feel, as I did, that the person I was attached to would only lead me to guilt and unhappiness, and to continue willingly down this path of misery and wrongdoing, showed a contradiction in my thoughts and actions that didn’t reflect well on my reasoning."

"'Tiberge,' replied I, 'it is easy to triumph when your arguments are unopposed. Allow me to reason for a few moments in my turn. Can you pretend that what you call the happiness of virtue is exempt from troubles, and crosses, and cares? By what name will you designate the dungeon, the rack, the inflections and tortures of tyrants? Will you say with the Mystics[1] that the soul derives pleasure from the torments of the body? You are not bold enough to hold such a doctrine—a paradox not to be maintained. This happiness, then, that you prize so much, has a thousand drawbacks, or is, more properly speaking, but a tissue of sufferings through which one hopes to attain felicity. If by the power of imagination one can even derive pleasure from these sufferings, hoping that they may lead to a happy end, why, let me ask, do you deem my conduct senseless, when it is directed by precisely the same principle? I love Manon: I wade through sorrow and suffering in order to attain happiness with her. My path is one indeed of difficulties, but the mere hope of reaching the desired goal makes it easy and delightful; and I shall think myself but too bountifully repaid by one moment of her society, for all the troubles I encounter in my course. There appears therefore no difference between us, or, if there be any, it is assuredly in my favour; for the bliss I hope for is near and tangible, yours is far distant, and purely speculative. Mine is of the same kind as my sufferings, that is to say, evident to my senses; yours is of an incomprehensible nature, and only discernible through the dim medium of faith.'

"'Tiberge,' I replied, 'it's easy to win an argument when nobody is challenging you. Let me take a moment to share my perspective. Can you really claim that what you call the happiness of virtue is free from troubles, struggles, and worries? What do you call the dungeon, the torture devices, the inflictions, and the torments of tyrants? Will you say, like the Mystics, that the soul finds pleasure in bodily suffering? You wouldn't be bold enough to advocate for such an idea—a paradox that can’t be supported. This happiness that you value so highly has countless downsides, or more accurately, it's just a web of sufferings that one hopes will lead to true happiness. If, through the power of imagination, someone can even find joy in these sufferings, believing they will lead to a positive outcome, then why do you consider my actions senseless when they’re based on the same principle? I love Manon: I endure pain and hardships to find happiness with her. My journey is indeed full of challenges, but the simple hope of reaching that goal makes it rewarding and enjoyable; I will feel richly rewarded by a single moment with her, despite all the troubles I face along the way. It seems there’s no real difference between us, or if there is, it's clearly in my favor; the happiness I seek is close and real, while yours is far away and just a theory. Mine is as tangible as my suffering, while yours is abstract and only understood through the blurry lens of faith."

"Tiberge appeared shocked by my remarks. He retired two or three paces from me, while he said, in the most serious tone, that my argument was not only a violation of good sense, but that it was the miserable sophistry of irreligion; 'for the comparison,' he added, 'of the pitiful reward of your sufferings with that held out to us by the divine revelation, is the essence of impiety and absurdity combined.'

Tiberge looked shocked by what I said. He stepped back two or three paces from me and, in the most serious tone, stated that my argument was not just a lack of common sense, but also the pathetic reasoning of irreligion. "Because," he added, "comparing the meager reward for your suffering with what is promised to us by divine revelation is the ultimate mix of impiety and absurdity."

"'I acknowledge,' said I, 'that the comparison is not a just one, but my argument does not at all depend upon it. I was about to explain what you consider a contradiction—the persevering in a painful pursuit; and I think I have satisfactorily proved, that if there be any contradiction in that, we shall be both equally obnoxious to the charge. It was in this light, only, that I could observe no difference in our cases, and I cannot as yet perceive any.

"I understand," I said, "that the comparison isn't entirely fair, but my argument doesn't rely on that. I was about to clarify what you see as a contradiction—the commitment to a difficult pursuit; and I believe I've shown that if there's any contradiction in that, we are both equally guilty of it. From this perspective, I can't see any difference between our situations, and I still don't see one."

"'You may probably answer, that the proposed end, the promised reward, of virtue, is infinitely superior to that of love? No one disputes it, but that is not the question—we are only discussing the relative aid they both afford in the endurance of affliction. Judge of that by the practical effect: are there not multitudes who abandon a life of strict virtue? how few give up the pursuits of love!

"'You might say that the ultimate goal, the promised reward, of virtue is way better than that of love? No one argues with that, but that's not the point—we're just talking about how each helps us get through tough times. Look at the real outcome: aren’t there many people who give up a life of strict virtue? How many actually walk away from the search for love!'

"'Again, you will reply that if there be difficulties in the exercise of virtue, they are by no means universal and sure; that the good man does not necessarily meet tyrants and tortures, and that, on the contrary, a life of virtue is perfectly compatible with repose and enjoyment. I can say with equal truth, that love is often accompanied by content and happiness; and what makes another distinction of infinite advantage to my argument, I may add that love, though it often deludes, never holds out other than hopes of bliss and joy, whilst religion exacts from her votaries mortification and sorrow.

"Once again, you'll say that while there are challenges in practicing virtue, they're not universal or guaranteed; that a good person doesn't always face tyrants and suffering, and that, in fact, a life of virtue can perfectly include peace and enjoyment. I can truthfully say that love often brings contentment and happiness; and what gives my argument an even greater advantage is that love, even though it can sometimes deceive, only offers hopes of happiness and joy, whereas religion requires her followers to endure sacrifice and sorrow."

"'Do not be alarmed,' said I, perceiving that I had almost offended his zealous feelings of devotion. 'I only wish to say, that there is no more unsuccessful method of weaning man's heart from love, than by endeavouring to decry its enjoyments, and by promising him more pleasure from the exercise of virtue. It is an inherent principle in our nature, that our felicity consists only in pleasure. I defy you to conceive any other notion of it; and it requires little time to arrive at the conviction, that, of all pleasures, those of love are immeasurably the most enchanting. A man quickly discerns the delusion, when he hears the promise made of livelier enjoyment, and the effect of such misrepresentation is only to make him doubt the truth of a more solid promise.

"‘Don’t be alarmed,’ I said, noticing that I had almost upset his strong feelings of devotion. ‘I just want to say that there’s no more ineffective way to take someone’s heart away from love than by trying to dismiss its joys and promising him more pleasure from being virtuous. It’s a basic part of our nature that our happiness comes from pleasure. I challenge you to think of any other idea of happiness; it doesn’t take long to realize that, among all pleasures, those of love are by far the most captivating. A person quickly sees through the illusion when they hear promises of greater enjoyment, and such misrepresentation only makes them question the truth of a more genuine promise."

"'Let the preacher who seeks the reformation of a sinner tell me that virtue is indispensably necessary, but not disguise its difficulty and its attendant denials. Say that the enjoyments of love are fleeting, if you will, that they are rigidly forbidden, that they lead with certainty to eternal suffering; and, what would assuredly make a deeper impression upon me than any other argument, say that the more sweet and delectable they are, the brighter will be the reward of Heaven for giving them up in sacrifice; but do in the name of justice admit, that, constituted as the heart of man is, they form here, on earth, our most perfect happiness.'

"'Let the preacher who aims to reform a sinner tell me that virtue is absolutely necessary, but don't sugarcoat its challenges and the sacrifices it demands. Sure, say that the pleasures of love are short-lived, that they are strictly forbidden, and that they inevitably lead to eternal suffering; and what would surely resonate with me more than any other argument is this: the sweeter and more enjoyable they are, the greater the reward in Heaven for giving them up as a sacrifice; but for the sake of fairness, acknowledge that, given the nature of the human heart, they represent our greatest happiness here on earth.'"

"My last sentence restored to Tiberge his good humour. He allowed that my ideas were not altogether so unreasonable. The only point he made, was in asking me why I did not carry my own principle into operation, by sacrificing my passion to the hope of that remuneration of which I had drawn so brilliant a picture. 'Oh! my dear friend,' replied I; 'that it is which makes me conscious of my own misery and weakness: true, alas! it is indeed my duty to act according to my argument; but have I the power of governing my own actions? What aid will enable me to forget Manon's charms?' 'God forgive me,' said Tiberge, 'I can almost fancy you a Jansenist[2]. 'I know not of what sect I am,' replied I, 'nor do I indeed very clearly see to which I ought to belong; but I cannot help feeling the truth of this at least of their tenets.'

"My last sentence brought Tiberge back to his good mood. He admitted that my thoughts weren’t entirely unreasonable. The only thing he questioned was why I didn’t apply my own principle by sacrificing my passion for the hope of the reward I had described so vividly. 'Oh! my dear friend,' I replied, 'that's what makes me aware of my own misery and weakness: it is my duty to act according to my argument, but do I have the power to control my own actions? What help will let me forget Manon's charms?' 'God forgive me,' Tiberge said, 'I can almost picture you as a Jansenist.' 'I don’t know what sect I belong to,' I replied, 'nor do I clearly understand which one I should be part of; but I can’t help recognizing at least the truth in some of their beliefs.'

"One effect of our conversation was to revive my friend's pity for me in all its force. He perceived that there was in my errors more of weakness than of vice; and he was the more disposed in the end to give me assistance; without which I should infallibly have perished from distress of mind. However, I carefully concealed from him my intention of escaping from St. Lazare. I merely begged of him to take charge of my letter; I had it ready before he came, and I soon found an excuse for the necessity of writing. He faithfully transmitted it, and Lescaut received before evening the one I had enclosed for him.

"One result of our conversation was to reignite my friend's sympathy for me in full force. He realized that my mistakes stemmed more from weakness than from bad character, and this made him more willing to help me in the end; without his support, I would have surely fallen apart from mental distress. However, I carefully kept my plan to escape from St. Lazare a secret from him. I simply asked him to take care of my letter; I had it ready before he arrived, and I quickly found a reason to justify writing it. He delivered it faithfully, and Lescaut received the letter I had enclosed for him before evening."

"He came to see me next morning, and fortunately was admitted under my brother's name. I was overjoyed at finding him in my room. I carefully closed the door. 'Let us lose no time,' I said. 'First tell me about Manon, and then advise me how I am to shake off these fetters.' He assured me that he had not seen his sister since the day before my arrest, and that it was only by repeated enquiries, and after much trouble, that he had at length been able to discover her fate as well as mine; and that he had two or three times presented himself at the Magdalen, and been refused admittance. 'Wretch!' muttered I to myself, 'dearly shall G—— M—— pay for this!'

He came to see me the next morning, and luckily was let in under my brother's name. I was thrilled to find him in my room. I carefully shut the door. "Let's not waste any time," I said. "First, tell me about Manon, and then give me some advice on how to break free from these chains." He assured me that he hadn't seen his sister since the day before my arrest, and that it was only through repeated inquiries and a lot of effort that he had finally managed to find out her fate as well as mine; and that he had gone to the Magdalen a couple of times but had been turned away. "What a wretch!" I muttered to myself, "G—— M—— will pay dearly for this!"

"'As to your escape,' continued Lescaut, 'it will not be so easy as you imagine. Last evening, I and a couple of friends walked round this establishment to reconnoitre it; and we agreed that, as your windows looked into a court surrounded by buildings, as you yourself mentioned in your letter, there would be vast difficulty in getting you out. Besides, you are on the third story, and it would be impossible to introduce ropes or ladders through the window. I therefore see no means from without—in the house itself we must hit upon some scheme.'

"'About your escape,' Lescaut continued, 'it won't be as easy as you think. Last night, a couple of friends and I walked around this place to check it out, and we agreed that, since your windows look into a courtyard surrounded by buildings, as you mentioned in your letter, it would be really hard to get you out. Plus, you're on the third floor, and it would be impossible to use ropes or ladders through the window. So, I don’t see any way from outside—in the house itself, we'll need to come up with some plan.'"

"'No,' replied I; 'I have examined everything minutely, particularly since, through the governor's indulgence, my confinement has been less rigorous. I am no longer locked into my room; I have liberty to walk in the gallery; but there is, upon every landing, a strong door kept closed night and day, so that it is impossible that ingenuity alone, unaided by some violent efforts, can rescue me.

"'No,' I replied; 'I've looked into everything closely, especially since the governor has been lenient and my confinement has become less severe. I'm no longer locked in my room; I can walk in the gallery. However, on every landing, there's a strong door that's kept closed day and night, making it impossible for someone to be rescued through just cleverness without some forceful efforts.'

"'Wait,' said I, after turning in my mind for a moment an idea that struck me as excellent; 'could you bring me a pistol?' 'Softly,' said Lescaut to me, 'you don't think of committing murder?' I assured him that I had so little intention of shooting anyone, that it would not be even necessary to have the pistol loaded. 'Bring it to me tomorrow,' I added, 'and do not fail to be exactly opposite the great entrance with two or three of your friends at eleven tomorrow night; I think I shall be able to join you there.' He in vain requested me to explain my plan. I told him that such an attempt as I contemplated could only appear rational after it had succeeded. I begged of him to shorten his visit, in order that he might with the less difficulty be admitted next morning. He was accordingly admitted as readily as on his first visit. He had put on so serious an air, moreover, that a stranger would have taken him for a respectable person.

"'Wait,' I said, after considering a brilliant idea that came to me; 'could you get me a pistol?' 'Easy now,' Lescaut replied, 'you’re not thinking of committing murder, are you?' I assured him that I had no intention of shooting anyone, so it wouldn’t even be necessary to have the pistol loaded. 'Bring it to me tomorrow,' I added, 'and make sure to be right across from the main entrance with two or three of your friends at eleven tomorrow night; I think I can meet you there.' He tried in vain to get me to explain my plan. I told him that such an attempt would only seem reasonable after it was successful. I asked him to keep his visit brief so he could be admitted more easily the next morning. He was, in fact, let in just as easily as on his first visit. He had adopted such a serious demeanor that a stranger would have taken him for a respectable person.

"When I found in my hand the instrument of my liberty, I no longer doubted my success. It was certainly a strange and a bold project; but of what was I not capable, with the motives that inspired me? I had, since I was allowed permission to walk in the galleries, found opportunities of observing that every night the porter brought the keys of all the doors to the governor, and subsequently there always reigned a profound silence in the house, which showed that the inmates had retired to rest. There was an open communication between my room and that of the Superior. My resolution was, if he refused quietly to surrender the keys, to force him, by fear of the pistol, to deliver them up, and then by their help to gain the street. I impatiently awaited the moment for executing my purpose. The porter arrived at his usual time, that is to say, soon after nine o'clock. I allowed an hour to elapse, in order that the priests as well as the servants might be all asleep. I at length proceeded with my pistol and a lighted candle. I first gave a gentle tap at the governor's door to awaken without alarming him. I knocked a second time before he heard me; and supposing of course that it was one of the priests who was taken ill and wanted assistance, he got out of bed, dressed himself, and came to the door. He had, however, the precaution to ask first who it was, and what was wanted? I was obliged to mention my name, but I assumed a plaintive tone, to make him believe that I was indisposed. 'Ah! it is you, my dear boy,' said he on opening the door; 'what can bring you here at this hour?' I stepped inside the door, and leading him to the opposite side of the room, I declared to him that it was absolutely impossible for me to remain longer at St. Lazare; that the night was the most favourable time for going out unobserved, and that I confidently expected, from his tried friendship, that he would consent to open the gates for me, or entrust me with the keys to let myself out.

"When I found the tool for my freedom in my hand, I was no longer unsure of my success. It was definitely a strange and daring plan, but what couldn't I do with the motivation I had? Since I was allowed to walk in the galleries, I discovered that every night the porter brought the keys to all the doors to the governor, and afterward, there was always complete silence in the building, indicating that everyone had gone to bed. There was a way to get from my room to the Superior’s room. If he wouldn't willingly hand over the keys, I planned to scare him into giving them to me with the pistol, then use them to escape to the street. I eagerly awaited the moment to carry out my plan. The porter arrived as usual, shortly after nine o'clock. I waited an hour so that both the priests and the servants would be asleep. Finally, I made my way with my pistol and a lit candle. I gently tapped on the governor's door, trying to wake him without startling him. I knocked again before he heard me; assuming it was one of the priests needing help, he got out of bed, got dressed, and came to the door. However, he wisely asked first who it was and what I wanted. I had to say my name but did so in a weak voice to make him think I was unwell. 'Ah! It’s you, my dear boy,' he said as he opened the door; 'what brings you here at this hour?' I stepped inside and led him to the other side of the room, telling him it was absolutely impossible for me to stay at St. Lazare any longer; that the night was the best time to leave unnoticed, and that I was counting on his proven friendship to open the gates for me or to give me the keys so I could let myself out."

"This compliment to his friendship seemed to surprise him. He stood for a few moments looking at me without making any reply. Finding that I had no time to lose, I just begged to assure him that I had the most lively sense of all his kindnesses, but that freedom was dearer to man than every other consideration, especially so to me, who had been cruelly and unjustly deprived of it; that I was resolved this night to recover it, cost what it would, and fearing lest he might raise his voice and call for assistance, I let him see the powerful incentive to silence which I had kept concealed in my bosom. 'A pistol!' cried he. 'What! my son? will you take away my life in return for the attentions I have shown you?' 'God forbid,' replied I; 'you are too reasonable to drive me to that horrible extremity: but I am determined to be free, and so firmly determined, that if you defeat my project, I will put an end to your existence.' 'But, my dear son!' said he, pale and frightened, 'what have I done to you? What reason have you for taking my life?' 'No!' replied I, impatiently, 'I have no design upon your life, if you, yourself, wish to live; open but the doors for me, and you will find me the most attached of friends.' I perceived the keys upon the table. I requested he would take them in his hand and walk before me, making as little noise as he possibly could.

"This compliment to his friendship seemed to surprise him. He stood for a few moments looking at me without saying anything. Realizing that I didn’t have time to waste, I quickly assured him that I deeply appreciated all his kindness, but that freedom was more important to me than anything else, especially because I had been cruelly and unfairly deprived of it. I was determined to regain it that night, no matter the cost, and worried that he might shout for help, I revealed the powerful motivation for silence that I had kept hidden. 'A pistol!' he exclaimed. 'What! my son? Are you going to take my life after everything I’ve done for you?' 'God forbid,' I replied; 'you're too sensible to push me to that terrible point. But I am set on being free, and so resolute that if you thwart my plan, I will end your life.' 'But, my dear son!' he said, looking pale and scared, 'what have I done to you? What reason do you have to take my life?' 'No!' I said impatiently, 'I don't want your life if you want to live. Just open the doors for me, and you’ll find me to be the most loyal friend.' I noticed the keys on the table. I asked him to pick them up and walk in front of me while making as little noise as possible."

"He saw the necessity of consenting. We proceeded, and as he opened each door, he repeated, always with a sigh, 'Ah! my son, who could have believed it?' 'No noise, good Father, no noise,' I as often answered in my turn. At length we reached a kind of barrier, just inside the great entrance. I already fancied myself free, and kept close behind the governor, with my candle in one hand, and my pistol in the other.

"He realized he had to agree. We moved forward, and as he opened each door, he kept repeating, always with a sigh, 'Ah! my son, who would have thought it?' 'No noise, dear Father, no noise,' I responded each time. Eventually, we arrived at a sort of barrier, just inside the main entrance. I already imagined myself free and stayed right behind the governor, holding my candle in one hand and my pistol in the other."

"While he was endeavouring to open the heavy gate, one of the servants, who slept in an adjoining room, hearing the noise of the bolts, jumped out of bed, and peeped forth to see what was passing. The good Father apparently thought him strong enough to overpower me. He commanded him, most imprudently, to come to his assistance. He was a powerful ruffian, and threw himself upon me without an instant's hesitation. There was no time for parleying—I levelled my pistol and lodged the contents in his breast! 'See, Father, of what mischief you have been the cause,' said I to my guide; 'but that must not prevent us from finishing our work,' I added, pushing him on towards the last door. He did not dare refuse to open it. I made my exit in perfect safety, and, a few paces off, found Lescaut with two friends waiting for me, according to his promise.

"While he was trying to open the heavy gate, one of the servants, who slept in a nearby room, heard the noise of the bolts and jumped out of bed to see what was going on. The good Father obviously thought he was strong enough to overpower me. He foolishly ordered him to come help. The servant was a strong thug and lunged at me without hesitation. There was no time to negotiate—I raised my pistol and shot him in the chest! 'Look, Father, at the trouble you've caused,' I told my guide; 'but that shouldn't stop us from finishing our job,' I added, pushing him toward the last door. He didn’t dare refuse to open it. I made my escape safely, and a short distance away, I found Lescaut with two friends waiting for me, just as he promised."

"We removed at once to a distance. Lescaut enquired whether he had not heard the report of a pistol? 'You are to blame,' said I, 'why did you bring it charged?' I, however, could not help thanking him for having taken this precaution, without which I doubtless must have continued much longer at St. Lazare. We went to pass the night at a tavern, where I made up, in some degree, for the miserable fare which had been doled out to me for nearly three months. I was very far, however, from tasting perfect enjoyment; Manon's sufferings were mine. 'She must be released,' said I to my companions: 'this was my sole object in desiring my own liberty. I rely on your aiding me with all your ingenuity; as for myself, my life shall be devoted to the purpose.'

"We quickly moved away. Lescaut asked if he had heard the sound of a gunshot. 'It's your fault,' I said, 'why did you bring it loaded?' Still, I couldn't help but thank him for taking that precaution, without which I surely would have stayed much longer at St. Lazare. We spent the night at a tavern, where I partially made up for the miserable food I'd been given for nearly three months. However, I was far from feeling completely happy; Manon's suffering was my own. 'She must be set free,' I told my friends: 'that was my only goal in wanting my own freedom. I count on your cleverness to help me; as for me, I will dedicate my life to this cause.'

"Lescaut, who was not deficient in tact, and still less in that better part of valour called discretion, dwelt upon the necessity of acting with extreme caution: he said that my escape from St. Lazare, and the accident that happened on my leaving it, would assuredly create a sensation; that the lieutenant-general of police would cause a strict search to be made for me, and it would be difficult to evade him; in fine, that, unless disposed to encounter something worse, perhaps, than St. Lazare, it would be requisite for me to remain concealed for a few days, in order to give the enemy's zeal time to cool. No doubt this was wise counsel; but, one should have been wise oneself to have followed it. Such calculating slowness little suited my passion. The utmost I could bring myself to promise was, that I would sleep through the whole of the next day. He locked me in my bedroom, where I remained patiently until night.

Lescaut, who was quite tactful and even more skilled in that important kind of bravery known as discretion, emphasized the need to act very carefully. He mentioned that my escape from St. Lazare and the incident that occurred when I left would definitely cause a stir; that the police chief would initiate a thorough search for me, making it hard to avoid him. In short, unless I wanted to face something worse than St. Lazare, I would need to stay hidden for a few days to let the authorities settle down. There was no doubt that this was sound advice; however, one would have to be wise enough to take it. Such calculated delays didn’t suit my impulsive nature. The most I could commit to was that I would sleep the entire next day. He locked me in my bedroom, where I waited patiently until night.

"I employed great part of the time in devising schemes for relieving Manon. I felt persuaded that her prison was even more inaccessible than mine had been. Force was out of the question. Artifice was the only resource; but the goddess of invention herself could not have told me how to begin. I felt the impossibility of working in the dark, and therefore postponed the further consideration of my schemes until I could acquire some knowledge of the internal arrangements of the Hospital, in which she was confined.

"I spent a lot of time trying to come up with plans to help Manon. I was convinced that her prison was even harder to reach than mine had been. Force wasn't an option. Deception was the only way; but even the goddess of invention couldn’t tell me where to start. I realized it was impossible to work without knowing more, so I put off thinking about my plans until I could learn about the layout of the Hospital where she was held."

"As soon as night restored to me my liberty, I begged of Lescaut to accompany me. We were not long in drawing one of the porters into conversation; he appeared a reasonable man. I passed for a stranger who had often with admiration heard talk of the Hospital, and of the order that reigned within it. I enquired into the most minute details; and, proceeding from one subject to another, we at length spoke of the managers, and of these I begged to know the names and the respective characters. He gave me such information upon the latter point as at once suggested an idea which flattered my hopes, and I immediately set about carrying it into execution.

"As soon as night gave me back my freedom, I asked Lescaut to come with me. It didn't take long for us to strike up a conversation with one of the porters; he seemed like a reasonable guy. I played the part of a stranger who had often heard with admiration about the Hospital and the orderliness within it. I asked about every little detail, and as we jumped from one topic to another, we eventually talked about the managers. I asked for their names and what they were like. He shared enough information about them that sparked an idea which lifted my spirits, and I quickly set to work on it."

"I asked him (this being a matter essential to my plan) whether any of the gentlemen had children. He said he could not answer me with certainty as to all, but as for M. de T——, one of the principal directors, he knew that he had a son old enough to be married, and who had come several times to the Hospital with his father. This was enough for my purpose.

"I asked him (since this was crucial to my plan) whether any of the gentlemen had children. He said he couldn’t say for sure about everyone, but as for M. de T——, one of the main directors, he knew he had a son old enough to get married, who had come to the Hospital several times with his father. This was enough for what I needed."

"I immediately put an end to our interview, and, in returning, I told Lescaut of the plan I had formed. 'I have taken it,' said I, 'into my head, that M. de T——, the son, who is rich and of good family, must have the same taste for pleasure that other young men of his age generally have. He could hardly be so bad a friend to the fair sex, nor so absurd as to refuse his services in an affair of love. I have arranged a plan for interesting him in favour of Manon. If he is a man of feeling and of right mind, he will give us his assistance from generosity. If he is not to be touched by a motive of this kind, he will at least do something for a handsome girl, if it were only with the hope of hereafter sharing her favours. I will not defer seeing him,' added I, 'beyond tomorrow. I really feel so elated by this project, that I derive from it a good omen.'

"I immediately ended our interview, and on my way back, I told Lescaut about the plan I had come up with. 'I’ve decided,' I said, 'that M. de T——, the son, who is wealthy and comes from a good family, must have the same taste for fun that other young men his age usually have. He couldn't be so terrible to the fairer sex, nor so foolish as to refuse to help in a love affair. I’ve crafted a plan to interest him in helping Manon. If he has any feelings and a decent mindset, he’ll assist us out of kindness. If that doesn’t move him, he’ll at least do something for a pretty girl, if only for the chance to possibly win her affection later. I won’t wait to see him,' I added, 'beyond tomorrow. I’m so excited about this plan that I see it as a good sign.'”

"Lescaut himself allowed that the idea was not unreasonable, and that we might fairly entertain a hope of turning it to account. I passed the night less sorrowfully.

"Lescaut himself admitted that the idea wasn’t unreasonable, and that we could reasonably hope to make something of it. I spent the night feeling less sad."

"Next morning I dressed as well as, in my present state of indigence, I could possibly contrive to do; and went in a hackney coach to the residence of M. de T——. He was surprised at receiving a visit from a perfect stranger. I augured favourably from his countenance and the civility of his manner. I explained my object in the most candid way; and, to excite his feelings as much as possible, I spoke of my ardent passion and of Manon's merit, as of two things that were unequalled, except by each other. He told me, that although he had never seen Manon, he had heard of her; at least, if the person I was talking of was the same who had been the mistress of old G—— M——. I conjectured that he must have heard of the part I had acted in that transaction, and in order to conciliate him more and more by treating him with confidence, I told him everything that had occurred to Manon and myself. 'You see, sir,' said I, 'that all that can interest me in life, all that can command my affections, is in your hands. I have no reserve with you, because I have been informed of your generous and noble character; and, being of the same age, I trust I shall find some resemblance in our dispositions.'

The next morning, I dressed as well as I could, given my current situation, and took a cab to M. de T——'s place. He was surprised to receive a visit from a complete stranger. I took his expression and politeness as a good sign. I explained my purpose honestly; to appeal to his emotions as much as possible, I talked about my deep love and Manon's qualities, saying they were unmatched, except by each other. He told me that, although he had never met Manon, he had heard of her—at least, if the person I was referring to was the same one who had been the mistress of old G—— M——. I suspected he must have heard about my involvement in that situation, so to gain his trust by being open, I shared everything that had happened between Manon and me. "You see, sir," I said, "everything that matters to me in life, everything that wins my heart, is in your hands. I have no secrets with you because I've heard about your generous and noble character; being of the same age, I hope to find some similarities in our personalities."

"He seemed flattered by this mark of candour and confidence. He replied in a manner that became a man of the world, and a man of feeling also, for they are not always synonymous terms. He told me that he appreciated my visit as a piece of good fortune; that he considered my friendship as a valuable acquisition, and that he would endeavour to prove himself worthy of it, by the sincerity of his services. He could not absolutely promise to restore Manon to my arms, because, as he said, he himself had very little influence; but he offered to procure me the pleasure of seeing her, and to do everything in his power to effect her release. I was the more satisfied with this frank avowal as to his want of influence, than I should have been by an unqualified promise of fulfilling all my wishes. I found in his moderation a pledge of his sincerity: in a word, I no longer doubted my entire success. The promise alone of enabling me to see Manon filled me with gratitude, and I testified it in so earnest a manner, as to give him a favourable opinion of my heart and disposition; we shook hands warmly, and parted sworn friends, merely from mutual regard, and that natural feeling which prompts a man of kind and generous sentiments to esteem another of congenial mind.

He seemed flattered by this show of honesty and trust. He replied like a worldly man and someone with feelings, since those aren't always the same. He told me that he viewed my visit as good luck, that he considered my friendship a valuable gain, and that he would try to prove himself worthy of it by being genuinely helpful. He couldn't promise to bring Manon back to me because, as he said, he had very little influence; but he offered to arrange for me to see her and to do everything he could to help her get free. I was more satisfied with his honest admission about his lack of influence than I would have been with an outright promise to fulfill all my wishes. I found his moderation to be a sign of his sincerity: in short, I no longer doubted I would succeed. Just the promise of being able to see Manon filled me with gratitude, and I showed it so earnestly that he thought well of my heart and character; we shook hands warmly and parted as sworn friends, simply out of mutual respect and the natural feeling that prompts a kind and generous person to value another of similar spirit.

"He, indeed, exceeded me in the proofs of his esteem; for, inferring from my adventures, and especially my late escape from St. Lazare, that I might be in want of money, he offered me his purse, and pressed me to accept it. I refused, but said to him, 'You are too kind, my dear sir! If in addition to such proofs of kindness and friendship, you enable me to see Manon again, rely on my eternal regard and gratitude. If you succeed in restoring altogether this dear creature to my arms, I should think myself happy in spilling the last drop of my blood in your service.'

"He definitely outdid me in showing his affection; after all, he figured that given my experiences, especially my recent escape from St. Lazare, I might need some cash, so he offered me his wallet and insisted I take it. I turned it down, but I said to him, 'You're too generous, my dear sir! If on top of your kindness and friendship, you help me see Manon again, you can count on my everlasting appreciation and gratitude. If you manage to bring this dear person back into my life, I would consider myself lucky to give my last drop of blood for you.'”

"Before we parted, we agreed as to the time and place for our meeting. He was so considerate as to appoint the afternoon of the same day.

"Before we said our goodbyes, we agreed on the time and place for our meeting. He was thoughtful enough to suggest the afternoon of the same day."

"I waited for him at a cafe, where he joined me about four o'clock, and we went together towards the Magdalen; my knees trembled under me as I crossed the courts. 'Ye heavenly powers!' said I, 'then I shall once more behold the idol of my heart—the dear object of so many sighs and lamentations! All I now ask of Providence is, to vouchsafe me strength enough to reach her presence, and after that, to dispose as it pleaseth of my future fate, and of my life itself. Beyond this, I have no prayer to utter.'

"I waited for him at a café, where he joined me around four o'clock, and we headed toward the Magdalen together; my knees shook as I crossed the courtyards. 'Oh heavenly powers!' I said, 'I will once again see the idol of my heart—the one I've sighed for and mourned so much! All I ask from fate now is to give me the strength to reach her, and after that, to decide my future and my life however it wants. Beyond that, I have no other prayer to make.'"

"M. de T—— spoke to some of the porters of the establishment, who appeared all anxious to please him. The quarter in which Manon's room lay was pointed out to us, and our guide carried in his hand the key of her chamber: it was of frightful size. I asked the man who conducted us, and whose duty it was to attend to Manon, how she passed her time? He said, that she had a temper of the most angelic sweetness; that even he, disagreeable as his official duties must render him, had never heard from her a single syllable in the nature of rebuke or harshness; that her tears had never ceased to flow during the first six weeks after her arrival, but that latterly she seemed to bear her misfortunes with more resignation, and that she employed herself from morning till night with her needle, excepting some hours that she, each day, devoted to reading. I asked whether she had been decently provided for. He assured me that at least she had never felt the want of necessaries.

M. de T—— talked to some of the porters at the establishment, who all seemed eager to satisfy him. Our guide pointed out the area where Manon's room was located, holding the key to her chamber, which was huge. I asked the man who was in charge of looking after Manon how she spent her time. He said that she had an incredibly sweet temperament; that even he, with his tough responsibilities, had never heard her say a single harsh word. He mentioned that her tears had flowed nonstop during the first six weeks after she arrived, but lately, she seemed to be handling her misfortunes with more acceptance and spent her days sewing, except for a few hours she dedicated to reading. I asked if she was being taken care of properly. He assured me that she never felt deprived of the essentials.

"We now approached her door. My heart beat almost audibly in my bosom. I said to M. de T——, 'Go in alone, and prepare her for my visit; I fear that she may be overcome by seeing me unexpectedly.' The door was opened. I remained in the passage, and listened to the conversation. He said that he came to bring her consolation; that he was a friend of mine, and felt deeply interested for the happiness of us both. She asked with the tenderest anxiety, whether he could tell her what had become of me. He promised that she should soon see me at her feet, as affectionate and as faithful as ever. 'When?' she asked. 'This very day,' said he; 'the happy moment shall not be long delayed; nay, this very instant even, if you wish it.' She at once understood that I was at the door; as she was rushing towards it, I entered. We embraced each other with that abounding and impassioned tenderness, which an absence of many months makes so delicious to those who truly love. Our sighs, our broken exclamations, the thousand endearing appellations of love, exchanged in languishing rapture, astonished M. de T——, and affected him even to tears.

We approached her door. My heart was beating so loudly I thought it might be heard. I said to M. de T——, "Go in alone and prepare her for my visit; I'm worried she might be overwhelmed by my unexpected appearance." The door opened. I stayed in the hallway and listened to the conversation. He told her he came to bring her comfort, that he was a friend of mine, and he genuinely cared about our happiness. She asked with deep concern if he could tell her what had happened to me. He promised she would soon see me at her feet, as loving and loyal as ever. "When?" she asked. "Today," he replied, "the happy moment won't be long; in fact, right now, if you want." She quickly realized I was at the door, and as she rushed toward it, I entered. We embraced each other with the overflowing and passionate tenderness that months apart make so sweet for those who truly love. Our sighs, our broken exclamations, the countless pet names of love exchanged in a haze of joy surprised M. de T—— and even brought him to tears.

"'I cannot help envying you,' said he, as he begged us to be seated; 'there is no lot, however glorious, that I would hold as comparable to the possession of a mistress at once so tender and impassioned.' 'Nor would I,' I replied, 'give up her love for universal empire!'

"'I can’t help but envy you,' he said, as he asked us to sit down; 'there’s no position, no matter how glorious, that I would trade for having a mistress who is both so tender and passionate.' 'And I wouldn't,' I replied, 'give up her love for world domination!'"

"The remainder of an interview which had been so long and so ardently desired by me, was of course as tender as the commencement. Poor Manon related all her adventures, and I told her mine: we bitterly wept over each other's story. M. de T—— consoled us by his renewed promises to exert himself in our service. He advised us not to make this, our first interview, of too long duration, that he might have the less difficulty in procuring us the same enjoyment again. He at length induced us to follow his advice. Manon especially could not reconcile herself to the separation: she made me a hundred times resume my seat. At one time she held me by my hands, at another by my coat. 'Alas!' she said, 'in what an abode do you leave me! Who will answer for my ever seeing you again?' M. de T—— promised her that he would often come and see her with me. 'As to the abode,' he said, 'it must no longer be called the Magdalen; it is Versailles! now that it contains a person who deserves the empire of all hearts.'

The rest of the interview that I had wanted for so long was just as emotional as the beginning. Poor Manon shared all her adventures, and I shared mine: we cried bitterly over each other's stories. M. de T—— comforted us with his renewed promises to help us. He suggested that we keep this first meeting short so it would be easier for him to arrange for us to enjoy it again. Eventually, he convinced us to take his advice. Manon, in particular, couldn’t bear the thought of separation: she made me sit down again a hundred times. At one moment she held onto my hands, and at another, she clutched my coat. “Alas!” she said, “what kind of place are you leaving me in! Who can guarantee that I will ever see you again?” M. de T—— promised her that he would visit her often with me. “As for the place,” he said, “it can no longer be called the Magdalen; it is Versailles now that it has someone who deserves the love of all.”

"I made the man who attended a present as I went out, in order to quicken his zeal and attentions. This fellow had a mind less rough and vulgar than the generality of his class. He had witnessed our interview, and was affected by it. The interest he felt was doubtless increased by the louis d'or I gave him. He took me aside as we went down into the courtyard. 'Sir,' said he, 'if you will only take me into your service, or indemnify me in any way for the loss of the situation which I fill here, I think I should not have much difficulty in liberating the beauteous Manon.'

"I gave the man who was present a gift as I left, to spark his enthusiasm and attention. This guy was less rough and crude than most people in his position. He had seen our conversation and was moved by it. His interest was definitely boosted by the gold coin I gave him. He pulled me aside as we headed down to the courtyard. 'Sir,' he said, 'if you would just take me on as your servant or compensate me in any way for the job I'm losing here, I think I could manage to free the beautiful Manon.'"

"I caught readily at the suggestion, and, although at the moment I was almost in a state of destitution, I gave him promises far beyond his desires. I considered that it would be at all times easy to recompense a man of his description. 'Be assured, my friend,' said I to him, 'that there is nothing I will not be ready to do for you, and that your fortune is just as certain as my own.' I enquired what means he intended to employ. 'None other,' said he, 'than merely to open the door of her cell for her at night, and to conduct her to the street door, where you, of course, will be to receive her.' I asked whether there was no danger of her being recognised as she traversed the long galleries and the courts. He admitted that there was danger, but that nothing could be done without some slight risk.

I quickly agreed to the suggestion, and even though I was nearly broke at the time, I made promises that went way beyond what he wanted. I figured it would always be easy to pay back someone like him. "Rest assured, my friend," I told him, "there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, and your success is as guaranteed as mine." I asked how he planned to do it. "Nothing more," he replied, "than simply opening her cell door at night and leading her to the street door, where you’ll be waiting for her." I wondered if there was any risk of her being recognized while she moved through the long hallways and courtyards. He acknowledged there was a risk, but said that nothing could be accomplished without some degree of danger.

"Although I was delighted to find him so determined, I called M. de T——, and informed him of the project, and of the only difficulty in the way. He thought it not so easy of execution. He allowed the possibility of escaping thus: 'But if she be recognised,' continued he, 'if she be stopped in the attempt, all hope will be over with her, perhaps for ever. Besides, you would be obliged to quit Paris instantly, for you could never evade the search that would be made for you: they would redouble their efforts as much on your own account as hers. A single man may easily escape detection, but in company with a handsome woman, it would be utterly impossible to remain undiscovered.'

"Although I was happy to see him so determined, I called M. de T—— and told him about the plan and the only obstacle we faced. He thought it wouldn't be easy to pull off. He acknowledged a way to escape: 'But if she's recognized,' he continued, 'if she's caught while trying, all hope will be lost for her, maybe forever. Also, you'd have to leave Paris right away, because you'd never be able to avoid the search for you: they would intensify their efforts for both your sake and hers. A single man can easily stay under the radar, but if he's with an attractive woman, it would be completely impossible to stay unnoticed.'”

"However sound this reasoning, it could not, in my mind, outweigh the immediate prospect of restoring Manon to liberty. I said as much to M. de T——, and trusted that he would excuse my imprudence and rashness, on the ground of love. I added that it was already my intention to quit Paris for some neighbouring village, as I had once before done. We then settled with the servant that he should carry his project into execution the following day, and to render our success as certain as he could, we resolved to carry into the prison men's clothes, in order to facilitate her escape.

"However solid this reasoning was, I didn't think it could outweigh the immediate chance of getting Manon back her freedom. I mentioned this to M. de T—— and hoped he would forgive my impulsiveness and recklessness, considering it was driven by love. I also said that I planned to leave Paris for a nearby village, just like I had done before. We then arranged with the servant to put his plan into action the next day, and to make our success as likely as possible, we decided to bring men's clothes into the prison to help with her escape."

"There was a difficulty to be surmounted in carrying them in, but I had ingenuity enough to meet it. I begged of M. de T—— only to put on two light waistcoats the next morning, and I undertook to arrange the rest.

"There was a challenge to overcome in bringing them inside, but I was clever enough to handle it. I asked M. de T—— to just put on two light vests the next morning, and I promised to take care of the rest."

"We returned the following day to the Hospital. I took with me linen, stockings, etc., for Manon, and over my body-coat a surtout, which concealed the bulk I carried in my pockets. We remained but a moment in her room. M. de T—— left her one of his waistcoats; I gave her my short coat, the surtout being sufficient for me. She found nothing wanting for her complete equipment but a pair of pantaloons, which in my hurry I had forgotten.

"We went back to the hospital the next day. I brought linen, stockings, and other things for Manon, and wore a coat over my shoulders that hid what I had stashed in my pockets. We only stayed a moment in her room. M. de T—— left her one of his vests; I gave her my short coat since the overcoat was enough for me. The only thing she needed for her complete outfit was a pair of pants, which I had forgotten in my rush."

"The want of so necessary an article might have amused us, if the embarrassment it caused had been of a less serious kind. I was in despair at having our whole scheme foiled by a trifling omission of this nature. However, I soon hit on a remedy, and determined to make my own exit sans-culotte, leaving that portion of my dress with Manon. My surtout was long, and I contrived by the help of a few pins to put myself in a decent condition for passing the gate.

"The lack of such an essential item might have entertained us if the trouble it caused wasn’t so serious. I was really upset that our entire plan was ruined by such a small oversight. However, I quickly came up with a solution and decided to leave without my pants, leaving that part of my outfit with Manon. My coat was long, and with the help of a few pins, I managed to make myself presentable enough to get through the gate."

"The remainder of the day appeared to me of endless length. When at last night came, we went in a coach to within a few yards of the Hospital. We were not long waiting, when we saw Manon make her appearance with her guide. The door of the coach being opened, they both stepped in without delay. I opened my arms to receive my adored mistress; she trembled like an aspen leaf. The coachman asked where he was to drive? 'To the end of the world!' I exclaimed; 'to some place where I can never again be separated from Manon.'

"The rest of the day felt like it lasted forever. When night finally came, we took a coach that brought us within a few yards of the hospital. We didn’t wait long before we saw Manon arrive with her guide. As soon as the door of the coach was opened, they both got in right away. I opened my arms to welcome my beloved mistress; she was trembling like a leaf. The coachman asked where he should drive us. 'To the ends of the earth!' I shouted; 'to a place where I can never be separated from Manon again.'”

"This burst, which I could not control, was near bringing me into fresh trouble. The coachman reflected upon what I said, and when I afterwards told him the name of the street to which I wished him to drive, he answered that he feared I was about to implicate him in some bad business; that he saw plainly enough that the good-looking young man whom I called Manon was a girl eloping from the Hospital, and that he was little disposed indeed to ruin himself for love of me.

"This outburst, which I couldn't help, was close to getting me into more trouble. The driver thought about what I said, and when I later told him the name of the street I wanted to go to, he replied that he was worried I was going to get him involved in some shady business; he made it clear that the attractive young guy I referred to as Manon was a girl running away from the Hospital, and he definitely wasn't willing to ruin himself for my sake."

"Extortion was the source of this scoundrel's delicacy. We were still too near the Hospital to make any noise. 'Silence!' said I to him, 'you shall have a louis d'or for the job': for less than that he would have helped me to burn the Hospital.

"Blackmail was what made this crook so fancy. We were still too close to the Hospital to make any noise. 'Be quiet!' I told him, 'I'll give you a louis d'or for the job': for less than that, he would have helped me set the Hospital on fire."

"We arrived at Lescaut's house. As it was late, M. de T—— left us on the way, promising to visit us the next morning. The servant alone remained.

"We arrived at Lescaut's house. Since it was late, M. de T—— left us on the way, promising to visit us the next morning. Only the servant stayed behind."

"I held Manon in such close embrace in my arms, that we occupied but one place in the coach. She cried for joy, and I could feel her tears trickling down my cheeks.

"I held Manon so tightly in my arms that we occupied just one space in the coach. She cried tears of joy, and I could feel them running down my cheeks."

"When we were about getting out at Lescaut's, I had a new difficulty with the coachman, which was attended with the most unfortunate results. I repented of having promised the fellow a louis d'or, not only because it was extravagant folly, but for another stronger reason, that it was at the moment out of my power to pay him. I called for Lescaut, and he came down to the door. I whispered to him the cause of my present embarrassment. Being naturally rough, and not at all in the habit of treating hackney-coachmen with respect, he answered that I could not be serious. 'A louis!' said he; 'twenty blows of a cane would be the right payment for that rascal!' I entreated him not to destroy us; when he snatched my cane from my hand, and was about to lay it on the coachman. The fellow had probably before experienced the weight of a guardsman's arm, and instantly drove off, crying out, that I had cheated him, and should hear of him again. I in vain endeavoured to stop him.

"When we were about to get out at Lescaut's, I had a new problem with the driver, which ended up having really unfortunate consequences. I regretted promising the guy a louis d'or, not just because it was a ridiculous expense, but also because I couldn't actually pay him at that moment. I called for Lescaut, and he came down to the door. I whispered to him about my current predicament. Being naturally rough and not at all used to treating cab drivers with respect, he replied that I couldn't be serious. 'A louis!' he said; 'twenty whacks with a cane would be the right payment for that jerk!' I begged him not to ruin us; then he snatched my cane from my hand and was about to hit the driver. The guy had probably felt the strength of a guardsman before and immediately drove off, shouting that I had cheated him and that I would hear from him again. I tried in vain to stop him."

"His flight caused me, of course, the greatest alarm. I had no doubt that he would immediately give information to the police. 'You have ruined me,' said I to Lescaut; 'I shall be no longer safe at your house; we must go hence at once.' I gave Manon my arm, and as quickly as possible got out of the dangerous neighbourhood. Lescaut accompanied us."

"His escape definitely alarmed me the most. I was sure he would notify the police right away. 'You've ruined me,' I said to Lescaut; 'I can't stay at your place anymore; we need to leave now.' I took Manon's arm and hurried out of the risky area as fast as I could. Lescaut came with us."

The Chevalier des Grieux having occupied more than an hour with his story, I begged him to give himself a little rest, and meanwhile to share our supper. He saw, by the attention we paid him, that we were amused, and promised that we should hear something of perhaps greater interest in the sequel. When we had finished supper, he continued in the following words.

The Chevalier des Grieux had spent over an hour telling his story, so I asked him to take a little break and join us for supper. He noticed how engaged we were and promised that what he’d share next would be even more interesting. After we finished eating, he continued with these words.



[1] A favourite tenet of the Mystics, advocated by Madame de Guyon, and adopted by the amiable and eloquent Fenelon, was, that the love of the Supreme Being must be pure and disinterested; that is, exempt from all views of interest, and all hope of reward. See the controversy between Bossuet and Fenelon.

[1] A favored belief among the Mystics, promoted by Madame de Guyon and embraced by the kind and articulate Fenelon, was that love for the Supreme Being must be pure and selfless; meaning it should be free from any personal interests or expectations of reward. See the debate between Bossuet and Fenelon.

[2] The first proposition of the Jansenists was, that there are divine precepts which good men, notwithstanding their desire to observe them, are nevertheless absolutely unable to obey: God not having given them such a measure of grace as is essentially necessary to render them capable of obedience.—Mosheim's Eccles. Hist., ii. 397.

[2] The first belief of the Jansenists was that there are divine rules which good people, despite wanting to follow them, are completely unable to obey: God has not given them the level of grace that is absolutely necessary to enable them to be obedient.—Mosheim's Eccles. Hist., ii. 397.




VII


. . . How chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors.
         SHAKESPEARE.

. . . How chances tease,
And changes fill the cup of transformation
With different drinks.
SHAKESPEARE.


"How inscrutably does Providence connect events! We had hardly proceeded for five minutes on our way, when a man, whose face I could not see, recognised Lescaut. He had no doubt been watching for him near his home, with the horrible intention which he now unhappily executed. 'It IS Lescaut!' said he, snapping a pistol at his head; 'he shall sup tonight with the angels!' He then instantly disappeared. Lescaut fell, without the least sign of life. I pressed Manon to fly, for we could be of no use to a dead man, and I feared being arrested by the police, who would certainly be soon upon the spot. I turned down the first narrow street with her and the servant: she was so overpowered by the scene she had just witnessed, that I could hardly support her. At last, at the end of the street, I perceived a hackney-coach; we got into it, but when the coachman asked whither he should drive, I was scarcely able to answer him. I had no certain asylum—no confidential friend to whom I could have recourse. I was almost destitute of money, having but one dollar left in my purse. Fright and fatigue had so unnerved Manon, that she was almost fainting at my side. My imagination too was full of the murder of Lescaut, and I was not without strong apprehensions of the patrol. What was to be done? I luckily remembered the inn at Chaillot, where we first went to reside in that village. I hoped to be not only secure, but to continue there for some time without being pressed for payment. 'Take us to Chaillot,' said I to the coachman. He refused to drive us so far at that late hour for less than twelve francs. A new embarrassment! At last we agreed for half that sum—all that my purse contained.

"How mysteriously does fate link events! We had barely gone five minutes when a man, whose face I couldn't see, recognized Lescaut. He must have been waiting for him near his home, ready to carry out his terrible intention. 'It IS Lescaut!' he shouted, aiming a pistol at his head; 'he'll dine with the angels tonight!' Then he immediately vanished. Lescaut collapsed, showing no signs of life. I urged Manon to run away, since we could do nothing for a dead man, and I was afraid the police would soon arrive. I turned down the first narrow street with her and the servant; she was so overwhelmed by what she had just seen that I could barely support her. Finally, at the end of the street, I spotted a cab; we climbed in, but when the driver asked where to take us, I struggled to respond. I had no safe place to go—no trustworthy friend to turn to. I was nearly out of money, with only a dollar left in my wallet. Fear and exhaustion had nearly knocked Manon out, and she was almost fainting beside me. My mind was consumed with the murder of Lescaut, and I had strong fears about the patrols. What were we to do? Fortunately, I remembered the inn at Chaillot, where we had first stayed in that village. I hoped it would be safe and that we could remain there for a while without needing to pay. 'Take us to Chaillot,' I told the driver. He refused to go that far at this late hour for any less than twelve francs. Another problem! Eventually, we agreed on half that amount—all the money I had."

"I tried to console Manon as we went along, but despair was rankling in my own heart. I should have destroyed myself a thousand times over, if I had not felt that I held in my arms all that could attach me to life: this reflection reconciled me. 'I possess her at least,' said I; 'she loves me! she is mine! Vainly does Tiberge call this a mere phantom of happiness.' I could, without feeling interest or emotion, see the whole world besides perish around me. Why? Because I have in it no object of affection beyond her.

"I tried to comfort Manon as we walked, but despair was eating away at my own heart. I should have ended my life a thousand times over if I hadn’t felt that I was holding in my arms everything that connected me to life: this thought brought me some peace. 'I have her at least,' I told myself; 'she loves me! She is mine! Tiberge foolishly says this is just a false happiness.' I could, without any interest or emotion, watch the whole world crumble around me. Why? Because I have no one to care about besides her."

"This sentiment was true; however, while I so lightly esteemed the good things of the world, I felt that there was no doing without some little portion of them, were it only to inspire a more thorough contempt for the remainder. Love is more powerful than wealth—more attractive than grandeur or fame; but, alas! it cannot exist without certain artificial aids; and there is nothing more humiliating to the feelings, of a sensitive lover, than to find himself, by want of means, reduced to the level of the most vulgar minds.

"This feeling was genuine; however, while I valued the good things in life so lightly, I realized that I needed at least a small part of them, even if just to foster a deeper disdain for the rest. Love is stronger than money—more appealing than status or fame; but, unfortunately, it can't exist without some superficial support. And there's nothing more humiliating for a sensitive lover than finding himself, due to a lack of resources, brought down to the level of the most ordinary minds."

"It was eleven o'clock when we arrived at Chaillot. They received us at the inn as old acquaintances, and expressed no sort of surprise at seeing Manon in male attire, for it was the custom in Paris and the environs to adopt all disguises. I took care to have her served with as much attention as if I had been in prosperous circumstances. She was ignorant of my poverty, and I carefully kept her so, being resolved to return alone the following day to Paris, to seek some cure for this vexatious kind of malady.

It was eleven o'clock when we got to Chaillot. They welcomed us at the inn like old friends and didn’t seem surprised to see Manon dressed as a man, since it was common in Paris and nearby areas to wear disguises. I made sure she was treated with as much care as if I were in good financial shape. She didn’t know about my struggles, and I made sure to keep it that way, as I planned to return to Paris alone the next day to find a solution for this annoying problem.

"At supper she appeared pale and thin; I had not observed this at the Hospital, as the room in which I saw her was badly lighted. I asked her if the excessive paleness were not caused by the shock of witnessing her brother's death? She assured me that, horrified as she naturally was at the event, her paleness was purely the effect of a three months' absence from me. 'You do love me then devotedly?' I exclaimed.

"At dinner, she looked pale and thin; I hadn't noticed this at the hospital because the lighting in the room was poor. I asked her if the extreme paleness was due to the shock of seeing her brother die. She assured me that, as horrified as she was by the event, her paleness was just a result of being away from me for three months. 'So you do love me deeply?' I exclaimed."

"'A thousand times more than I can tell!' was her reply.

"'A thousand times more than I can say!' was her reply."

"'You will never leave me again?' I added.

"'You’re never going to leave me again?' I added.

"'No! never, never!' answered she.

"'No! never, ever!' she replied."

"This assurance was confirmed by so many caresses and vows, that it appeared impossible she could, to the end of time, forget them. I have never doubted that she was at that moment sincere. What motive could she have had for dissembling to such a degree? But she became afterwards still more volatile than ever, or rather she was no longer anything, and entirely forgot herself, when, in poverty and want, she saw other women living in abundance. I was now on the point of receiving a new proof of her inconstancy, which threw all that had passed into the shade, and which led to the strangest adventure that ever happened to a man of my birth and prospects.

"This reassurance was backed up by so many affection and promises that it seemed impossible for her to ever forget them. I have never doubted that she was being sincere at that moment. What reason would she have had to be so deceptive? But she became even more unpredictable than before, or rather, she completely lost herself when, in poverty and need, she saw other women living in luxury. I was now on the brink of experiencing a new indication of her unreliability, one that overshadowed everything that had happened before and led to the most bizarre adventure that ever occurred to someone of my background and opportunities."

"As I knew her disposition, I hastened the next day to Paris. The death of her brother, and the necessity of getting linen and clothes for her, were such good reasons, that I had no occasion for any further pretext. I left the inn, with the intention, as I told Manon and the landlord, of going in a hired carriage, but this was a mere flourish; necessity obliged me to travel on foot: I walked very fast as far as Cours-la-Reine, where I intended to rest. A moment of solitude and tranquillity was requisite to compose myself, and to consider what was to be done in Paris.

"As I understood her personality, I rushed to Paris the next day. The death of her brother and the need to get her linens and clothes were more than enough reason; I didn’t need any other excuse. I left the inn, intending, as I told Manon and the landlord, to take a hired carriage, but that was just for show; I had to walk. I walked quickly as far as Cours-la-Reine, where I planned to take a break. A little solitude and peace were needed to collect my thoughts and figure out what to do in Paris."

"I sat down upon the grass. I plunged into a sea of thoughts and considerations, which at length resolved themselves into three principal heads. I had pressing want of an infinite number of absolute necessaries; I had to seek some mode of at least raising a hope for the future; and, though last, not least in importance, I had to gain information, and adopt measures, to secure Manon's safety and my own. After having exhausted myself in devising projects upon these three chief points, I was obliged to put out of view for the moment the two last. We were not ill sheltered from observation in the inn at Chaillot; and as to future wants, I thought it would be time enough to think about them when those of the moment were satisfied.

I sat down on the grass. I dove into a flood of thoughts and considerations, which eventually grouped into three main points. I desperately needed a ton of essential things; I had to figure out a way to at least spark some hope for the future; and, though last but not least, I needed to gather information and take steps to ensure Manon's safety and my own. After exhausting myself trying to come up with plans for these three key issues, I had to temporarily set aside the last two. We were reasonably well hidden from view in the inn at Chaillot; as for future needs, I figured it would be enough to think about them once my immediate needs were met.

"The main object now was to replenish my purse. M. de T—— had once offered me his, but I had an extreme repugnance to mention the subject to him again. What a degradation to expose one's misery to a stranger, and to ask for charity: it must be either a man of low mind who would thus demean himself, and that from a baseness which must render him insensible to the degradation, or a humble Christian, from a consciousness of generosity in himself, which must put him above the sense of shame. I would have sacrificed half my life to be spared the humiliation.

The main goal now was to refill my wallet. M. de T—— had once offered me his help, but I felt really uncomfortable bringing it up with him again. What a degrading thing to expose my struggles to someone I barely knew and to ask for help; it could only be someone with a low character who would lower themselves to do that, or a genuinely humble person, aware of their own generosity, who would rise above any feelings of shame. I would have given up half my life to avoid that humiliation.

"'Tiberge,' said I, 'kind Tiberge, will he refuse me what he has it in his power to grant? No, he will assuredly sympathise in my misery; but he will also torture me with his lectures! One must endure his reproaches, his exhortations, his threats: I shall have to purchase his assistance so dearly, that I would rather make any sacrifice than encounter this distressing scene, which cannot fail to leave me full of sorrow and remorse. Well,' thought I again, 'all hope must be relinquished, since no other course presents itself: so far am I from adopting either of these, that I would sooner shed half my blood than face one of these evils, or the last drop rather than encounter both. Yes, the very last drop,' I repeated after a moment's reflection, 'I would sacrifice willingly rather than submit to such base supplication!

"'Tiberge,' I said, 'kind Tiberge, will he really refuse me what he can give? No, he will definitely understand my suffering; but he will also torment me with his lectures! I’ll have to endure his reproaches, his lectures, his threats: I’ll have to pay so dearly for his help that I’d rather make any sacrifice than go through this painful scene, which will surely leave me filled with sadness and regret. Well,' I thought again, 'I must give up all hope since there’s no other option: I’m so far from choosing either of these that I’d rather lose half my blood than face one of these troubles, or the last drop rather than deal with both. Yes, the very last drop,' I repeated after a moment of reflection, 'I would willingly sacrifice rather than submit to such a degrading plea!

"'But it is not in reality a question of my existence! Manon's life and maintenance, her love and her fidelity, are at stake! What consideration can outweigh that? In her are centred all my glory, happiness, and future fortune! There are doubtless many things that I would gladly give up my life to obtain, or to avoid; but to estimate a thing merely beyond the value of my own life, is not putting it on a par with that of Manon.' This idea soon decided me: I went on my way, resolved to go first to Tiberge, and afterwards to M. de T——.

"'But this isn't really about my existence! Manon's life and well-being, her love and loyalty, are on the line! What consideration could be more important than that? Everything I cherish, my happiness and future, revolves around her! There are certainly many things I would willingly give my life to attain or to avoid; however, to value something as more important than my own life doesn't compare to the value of Manon's.' This thought quickly made up my mind: I continued on my path, determined to visit Tiberge first, and then M. de T——."

"On entering Paris I took a hackney-coach, though I had not wherewithal to pay for it; I calculated on the loan I was going to solicit. I drove to the Luxembourg, whence I sent word to Tiberge that I was waiting for him. I had not to stay many minutes. I told him without hesitation the extremity of my wants. He asked if the fifty pounds which I had returned to him would suffice, and he at once went to fetch it with that generous air, that pleasure in bestowing which 'blesseth him that gives, and him that takes,' and which can only be known to love or to true friendship.

Upon arriving in Paris, I took a cab, even though I didn’t have the money to pay for it; I was counting on the loan I intended to request. I went to the Luxembourg and sent a message to Tiberge that I was waiting for him. I didn’t have to wait long. I quickly expressed the depth of my needs. He asked if the fifty pounds I had returned to him would be enough, and he immediately went to get it with that generous demeanor, that joy in giving which “blesses both the giver and the receiver,” and that can only be understood through love or true friendship.

"Although I had never entertained a doubt of Tiberge's readiness to grant my request, yet I was surprised at having obtained it on such easy terms, that is to say, without a word of reprimand for my impenitence; but I was premature in fancying myself safe from his reproaches, for when he had counted out the money, and I was on the point of going away, he begged of me to take a walk with him in the garden. I had not mentioned Manon's name; he knew nothing of her escape; so that his lecture was merely upon my own rash flight from St. Lazare, and upon his apprehensions lest, instead of profiting by the lessons of morality which I had received there, I should again relapse into dissipation.

"Even though I had never doubted that Tiberge would agree to my request, I was surprised that I got it under such easy conditions, without any reprimand for my lack of remorse. However, I was wrong to think I was free from his criticism. When he counted out the money and I was about to leave, he asked me to take a walk with him in the garden. I hadn’t mentioned Manon's name, and he knew nothing about her escape, so his talk was just about my reckless decision to leave St. Lazare and his fears that, instead of learning from the moral lessons I got there, I would fall back into a life of excess."

"He told me, that having gone to pay me a visit at St. Lazare, the day after my escape, he had been astonished beyond expression at hearing the mode in which I had effected it; that he had afterwards a conversation with the Superior; that the good Father had not quite recovered the shock; that he had, however, the generosity to conceal the real circumstances from the lieutenant-general of police, and that he had prevented the death of the porter from becoming known outside the walls; that I had, therefore, upon that score, no ground for alarm, but that, if I retained one grain of prudence, I should profit by this happy turn which Providence had given to my affairs, and begin by writing to my father, and reconciling myself to his favour; and finally that, if I would be guided by his advice, I should at once quit Paris, and return to the bosom of my family.

"He told me that after he visited me at St. Lazare the day after my escape, he was completely shocked to learn how I had managed to get away. He mentioned that he had a conversation with the Superior, who hadn’t fully recovered from the shock. However, the good Father had the decency to hide the actual circumstances from the lieutenant-general of police and had ensured that the porter’s death wouldn’t be known outside the walls. So, I had no reason to be alarmed about that. But, he advised me that if I had any sense of caution left, I should take advantage of this fortunate turn of events and start by writing to my father to mend our relationship. Finally, he urged me to follow his advice and leave Paris immediately to return to my family."

"I listened to him attentively till he had finished. There was much in what he said to gratify me. In the first place, I was delighted to learn that I had nothing to fear on account of St. Lazare—the streets of Paris at least were again open to me. Then I rejoiced to find that Tiberge had no suspicion of Manon's escape, and her return to my arms. I even remarked that he had not mentioned her name, probably from the idea that, by my seeming indifference to her, she had become less dear to my heart. I resolved, if not to return home, at least to write to my father, as he advised me, and to assure him that I was disposed to return to my duty, and consult his wishes. My intention was to urge him to send me money for the purpose of pursuing my ordinary studies at the University, for I should have found it difficult to persuade him that I had any inclination to resume my ecclesiastical habit. I was in truth not at all averse to what I was now going to promise him. On the contrary, I was ready to apply myself to some creditable and rational pursuit, so far as the occupation would be compatible with my love. I reckoned upon being able to live with my mistress, and at the same time continuing my studies. I saw no inconsistency in this plan.

I listened to him carefully until he finished. There was a lot in what he said that made me happy. First, I was thrilled to find out that I had nothing to fear regarding St. Lazare—the streets of Paris were once again open to me. Then I was relieved to see that Tiberge had no idea about Manon's escape or her return to me. I even noted that he hadn’t mentioned her name, likely thinking that my apparent indifference to her meant she was less important to me. I decided that, if I wasn’t going to go home, at least I would write to my father as he suggested, letting him know that I was willing to return to my responsibilities and consider his wishes. My plan was to ask him for money so I could continue my studies at the University, as I would have found it hard to convince him that I wanted to go back to the church. In truth, I was completely open to what I was about to promise him. On the contrary, I was eager to commit to some respectable and reasonable pursuit, as long as it fit with my love. I thought I could manage to live with my mistress while also keeping up with my studies. I saw no contradiction in this plan.

"These thoughts were so satisfactory to my mind, that I promised Tiberge to dispatch a letter by that day's post to my father: in fact, on leaving him, I went into a scrivener's, and wrote in such a submissive and dutiful tone, that, on reading over my own letter, I anticipated the triumph I was going to achieve over my father's heart.

"These thoughts were so satisfying to me that I promised Tiberge I would send a letter to my father that day. In fact, after leaving him, I went into a writing shop and wrote in such a submissive and respectful tone that, after reading my own letter, I could already imagine the victory I was about to win over my father's heart."

"Although I had money enough to pay for a hackney-coach after my interview with Tiberge, I felt a pleasure in walking independently through the streets to M. de T——'s house. There was great comfort in this unaccustomed exercise of my liberty, as to which my friend had assured me I had nothing now to apprehend. However, it suddenly occurred to me, that he had been only referring to St. Lazare, and that I had the other affair of the Hospital on my hands; being implicated, if not as an accomplice, at all events as a witness. This thought alarmed me so much, that I slipped down the first narrow street, and called a coach. I went at once to M. de T——'s, and he laughed at my apprehensions. I myself thought them ridiculous enough, when he informed me that there was no more danger from Lescaut's affray, than from the Hospital adventure. He told me that, from the fear of their suspecting that he had a hand in Manon's escape, he had gone that morning to the Hospital and asked to see her, pretending not to know anything of what had happened; that they were so far from entertaining the least suspicion of either of us, that they lost no time in relating the adventure as a piece of news to him; and that they wondered how so pretty a girl as Manon Lescaut could have thought of eloping with a servant: that he replied with seeming indifference, that it by no means astonished him, for people would do anything for the sake of liberty.

"Even though I had enough money to pay for a cab after my meeting with Tiberge, I enjoyed the freedom of walking through the streets to M. de T——'s house. There was a lot of comfort in this unusual exercise of my liberty, especially since my friend had assured me I had nothing to fear now. However, it suddenly struck me that he was only talking about St. Lazare, and I still had the Hospital situation to deal with; I was involved, if not as an accomplice, then at least as a witness. This thought worried me so much that I ducked down the first narrow street and called a cab. I headed straight to M. de T——'s, and he laughed at my fears. I found my concerns pretty ridiculous too when he told me that there was no more danger from Lescaut's fight than from the Hospital incident. He explained that out of fear they might think he was involved in Manon's escape, he had gone to the Hospital that morning, pretending he didn’t know anything about what had happened; they were so far from suspecting either of us that they wasted no time sharing the story with him as news, and they wondered how such a pretty girl like Manon Lescaut could think about running away with a servant. He responded with apparent indifference that he wasn’t surprised at all, since people would do anything for the sake of freedom."

"He continued to tell me how he then went to Lescaut's apartments, in the hope of finding me there with my dear mistress; that the master of the house, who was a coachmaker, protested he had seen neither me nor Manon; but that it was no wonder that we had not appeared there, if our object was to see Lescaut, for that we must have doubtless heard of his having been assassinated about the very same time; upon which, he related all that he knew of the cause and circumstances of the murder.

"He kept telling me how he went to Lescaut's place, hoping to find me there with my dear mistress. The owner of the house, who was a coachmaker, insisted he hadn’t seen either me or Manon. But he said it was no surprise we hadn’t shown up, especially if we were trying to see Lescaut, since we must have heard about him being murdered around the same time. Then he shared everything he knew about the reasons and details of the killing."

"About two hours previously, a guardsman of Lescaut's acquaintance had come to see him, and proposed play. Lescaut had such a rapid and extravagant run of luck, that in an hour the young man was minus twelve hundred francs—all the money he had. Finding himself without a sou, he begged of Lescaut to lend him half the sum he had lost; and there being some difficulty on this point, an angry quarrel arose between them. Lescaut had refused to give him the required satisfaction, and the other swore, on quitting him, that he would take his life; a threat which he carried into execution the same night. M. de T—— was kind enough to add, that he had felt the utmost anxiety on our account, and that, such as they were, he should gladly continue to us his services. I at once told him the place of our retreat. He begged of me to allow him to sup with us.

About two hours earlier, a guardsman who knew Lescaut came to visit him and suggested they play a game. Lescaut had such a crazy streak of luck that within an hour, the young man lost twelve hundred francs—all the money he had. Realizing he was broke, he asked Lescaut to lend him half of what he had lost; when this proved difficult, an angry argument broke out between them. Lescaut refused to give him the help he needed, and the other man swore, as he left, that he would kill him—a threat he acted on that very night. M. de T—— kindly mentioned that he had been very worried about us and that, regardless of the situation, he would be happy to continue offering his services. I immediately told him where we were staying. He asked if he could join us for dinner.

"As I had nothing more to do than to procure the linen and clothes for Manon, I told him that we might start almost immediately, if he would be so good as to wait for me a moment while I went into one or two shops. I know not whether he suspected that I made this proposition with the view of calling his generosity into play, or whether it was by the mere impulse of a kind heart; but, having consented to start immediately, he took me to a shopkeeper, who had lately furnished his house. He there made me select several articles of a much higher price than I had proposed to myself; and when I was about paying the bill, he desired the man not to take a sou from me. This he did so gracefully, that I felt no shame in accepting his present. We then took the road to Chaillot together, where I arrived much more easy in mind than when I had left it that morning.

"As I had nothing else to do but buy linen and clothes for Manon, I told him we could start almost immediately if he would just wait for a moment while I went into a couple of shops. I don't know if he suspected I was trying to appeal to his generosity or if it was just the impulse of a kind heart, but after agreeing to go right away, he took me to a shopkeeper who had recently supplied his house. There, he made me pick out several items that were much more expensive than I had planned. When I was about to pay the bill, he told the shopkeeper not to take a single coin from me. He did it so gracefully that I had no shame in accepting his gift. We then headed to Chaillot together, and I arrived feeling much more at ease than I had that morning."

"My return and the polite attentions of M. de T—— dispelled all Manon's melancholy. 'Let us forget our past annoyances, my dear soul,' said I to her, 'and endeavour to live a still happier life than before. After all, there are worse masters than love: fate cannot subject us to as much sorrow as love enables us to taste of happiness.' Our supper was a true scene of joy.

"My return and the kind attentions of M. de T—— lifted all of Manon's sadness. 'Let's forget our past troubles, my dear,' I said to her, 'and try to have an even happier life than we did before. After all, there are worse masters than love: fate can't make us suffer as much as love allows us to experience joy.' Our dinner was a true celebration."

"In possession of Manon and of twelve hundred and fifty francs, I was prouder and more contented than the richest voluptuary of Paris with untold treasures. Wealth should be measured by the means it affords us of satisfying our desires. There did not remain to me at this moment a single wish unaccomplished. Even the future gave me little concern. I felt a hope, amounting almost to certainty, that my father would allow me the means of living respectably in Paris, because I had become entitled, on entering upon my twentieth year, to a share of my mother's fortune. I did not conceal from Manon what was the extent of my present wealth; but I added, that it might suffice to support us until our fortune was bettered, either by the inheritance I have just alluded to, or by the resources of the hazard-table."

"With Manon by my side and twelve hundred and fifty francs in hand, I felt prouder and happier than the wealthiest person in Paris with all their riches. Wealth should be measured by how well it helps us fulfill our desires. At that moment, I had no unfulfilled wishes. Even the future didn't worry me much. I felt a hope, almost a certainty, that my father would let me live comfortably in Paris since, upon turning twenty, I was entitled to a part of my mother's inheritance. I didn't hide from Manon how much money I had right now, but I mentioned that it should be enough to support us until our situation improved, either from the inheritance I just mentioned or from winnings at the gambling table."




VIII


This Passion hath its floods in the very times of weakness, which are great prosperity, and great adversity; both which times kindle Love, and make it more fervent.—BACON.

This passion has its ups and downs in moments of weakness, which are times of great success and great failure; both of these moments ignite love and make it even more intense.—BACON.


"For several weeks I thus continued to think only of enjoying the full luxury of my situation; and being restrained, by a sense of honour, as well as a lurking apprehension of the police, from renewing my intimacy with my former companions at the hotel of Transylvania, I began to play in certain coteries less notorious, where my good luck rendered it unnecessary for me to have recourse to my former accomplishments. I passed a part of the afternoon in town, and returned always to supper at Chaillot, accompanied very often by M. de T——, whose intimacy and friendship for us daily increased.

For several weeks, I focused solely on enjoying the full luxury of my situation. Feeling a sense of honor, along with a nagging fear of the police, kept me from reconnecting with my old friends at the Transylvania hotel. Instead, I started to hang out in less well-known circles, where my good luck made it unnecessary for me to rely on my old skills. I spent part of the afternoons in town and always returned to supper at Chaillot, often accompanied by M. de T——, whose friendship and closeness to us grew each day.

"Manon soon found resources against ennui. She became acquainted with some young ladies, whom the spring brought into the neighbourhood. They occupied their leisure hours in walking, and the customary amusements of persons of their sex and age. Their little gains at cards (always within innocent limits) were laid out in defraying the expense of a coach, in which they took an airing occasionally in the Bois de Boulogne; and each night when I returned, I was sure of finding Manon more beautiful—more contented—more affectionate than ever.

Manon quickly found ways to deal with boredom. She got to know some young ladies who had moved into the neighborhood with the arrival of spring. They spent their free time walking and enjoying the usual activities for girls their age. Any small winnings they made from card games (always within harmless limits) were used to cover the cost of a coach, which they would take out for a ride in the Bois de Boulogne from time to time. Every night when I returned, I knew I would find Manon looking more beautiful, happier, and more loving than ever.

"There arose, however, certain clouds, which seemed to threaten the continuance of this blissful tranquillity, but they were soon dispelled; and Manon's sprightliness made the affair so excessively comical in its termination, that it is even now pleasing to recur to it, as a proof of the tenderness as well as the cheerfulness of her disposition.

However, certain clouds appeared that seemed to threaten this peaceful happiness, but they were quickly cleared away; and Manon's liveliness made the whole situation so hilariously funny in the end that it’s still enjoyable to think back on it as a testament to both her warmth and her cheerful nature.

"The only servant we had came to me one day, with great embarrassment, and taking me aside, told me that he had a secret of the utmost importance to communicate to me. I urged him to explain himself without reserve. After some hesitation, he gave me to understand that a foreigner of high rank had apparently fallen in love with Manon. I felt my blood boil at the announcement. 'Has she shown any penchant for him?' I enquired, interrupting my informant with more impatience than was requisite, if I desired to have a full explanation.

The only servant we had came to me one day, looking really embarrassed. He pulled me aside and told me he had a secret of great importance to share. I encouraged him to speak openly. After a bit of hesitation, he hinted that a foreign noble seemed to have fallen in love with Manon. I felt my blood boil at the news. “Has she shown any interest in him?” I asked, interrupting him with more impatience than I needed if I wanted a full explanation.

"He was alarmed at my excitement; and replied in an undecided tone, that he had not made sufficiently minute observation to satisfy me; but that, having noticed for several days together the regular arrival of the stranger at the Bois de Boulogne, where, quitting his carriage, he walked by himself in the cross-avenues, appearing to seek opportunities of meeting Manon, it had occurred to him to form an acquaintance with the servants, in order to discover the name of their master; that they spoke of him as an Italian prince, and that they also suspected he was upon some adventure of gallantry. He had not been able to learn anything further, he added, trembling as he spoke, because the prince, then on the point of leaving the wood, had approached him, and with the most condescending familiarity asked his name; upon which, as if he at once knew that he was in our service, he congratulated him on having, for his mistress, the most enchanting person upon earth.

He was worried by my excitement and replied in an unsure tone that he hadn't paid enough attention to satisfy me. However, he had noticed over several days the regular arrival of the stranger at Bois de Boulogne, where he would leave his carriage and walk by himself in the side avenues, seeming to look for chances to meet Manon. This made him think about getting to know the servants to find out their master's name. They referred to him as an Italian prince and also suspected he was involved in some romantic endeavor. He couldn't learn anything more, he added, trembling as he spoke, because the prince, who was just about to leave the woods, had approached him and with a friendly demeanor asked his name. Upon hearing it, as if he instantly recognized he was in our service, he congratulated him on having the most enchanting person in the world as his mistress.

"I listened to this recital with the greatest impatience. He ended with the most awkward excuses, which I attributed to the premature and imprudent display of my own agitation. In vain I implored him to continue his history. He protested that he knew nothing more, and that what he had previously told me, having only happened the preceding day, he had not had a second opportunity of seeing the prince's servants. I encouraged him, not only with praises, but with a substantial recompense; and without betraying the slightest distrust of Manon, I requested him, in the mildest manner, to keep strict watch upon all the foreigner's movements.

I listened to this recital with great impatience. He wrapped it up with some really awkward excuses, which I took as a sign of my own earlier nervousness showing through. I pleaded with him to continue his story, but he insisted that he had nothing more to share, and that since what he had told me had only happened the day before, he hadn’t had another chance to see the prince's servants. I encouraged him not just with compliments, but with a decent reward; and without showing any suspicion of Manon, I asked him, as kindly as possible, to keep a close eye on all the foreigner’s movements.

"In truth, the effect of his fright was to leave me in a state of the cruellest suspense. It was possible that she had ordered him to suppress part of the truth. However, after a little reflection, I recovered sufficiently from my fears to see the manner in which I had exposed my weaknesses. I could hardly consider it a crime in Manon to be loved. Judging from appearances, it was probable that she was not even aware of her conquest. 'And what kind of life shall I in future lead,' thought I, 'if I am capable of letting jealousy so easily take possession of my mind?'

"In truth, the effect of his fear left me in a state of the most intense suspense. It was possible that she had told him to hide part of the truth. However, after thinking it over for a bit, I managed to recover from my fears enough to see how I had revealed my weaknesses. I could barely consider it a crime for Manon to be loved. Based on appearances, it seemed likely that she wasn't even aware of her effect on me. 'What kind of life will I lead in the future,' I thought, 'if I'm capable of letting jealousy take over my mind so easily?'"

"I returned on the following day to Paris, with no other intention than to hasten the improvement of my fortune, by playing deeper than ever, in order to be in a condition to quit Chaillot on the first real occasion for uneasiness. That night I learned nothing at all calculated to trouble my repose. The foreigner had, as usual, made his appearance in the Bois de Boulogne; and venturing, from what had passed the preceding day, to accost my servant more familiarly, he spoke to him openly of his passion, but in such terms as not to lead to the slightest suspicion of Manon's being aware of it. He put a thousand questions to him, and at last tried to bribe him with large promises; and taking a letter from his pocket, he in vain entreated him, with the promise of some louis d'ors, to convey it to her.

I returned to Paris the next day, wanting nothing more than to quickly improve my situation by gambling even more than before, so I could leave Chaillot as soon as there was any real reason to be concerned. That night, I didn’t learn anything that disturbed my peace. The foreigner had, as usual, shown up in the Bois de Boulogne; and, feeling bold after what had happened the day before, he talked to my servant more casually. He openly shared his feelings for her, but in a way that wouldn’t raise any suspicion that Manon knew about it. He asked him a ton of questions and even tried to bribe him with generous offers; he pulled a letter from his pocket and begged him, offering some louis d'ors, to deliver it to her.

"Two days passed without anything more occurring: the third was of a different character. I learned on my arrival, later than usual, from Paris, that Manon, while in the wood, had left her companions for a moment, and that the foreigner, who had followed her at a short distance, approached, upon her making him a sign, and that she handed him a letter, which he took with a transport of joy. He had only time to express his delight by kissing the billet-doux, for she was out of sight in an instant. But she appeared in unusually high spirits the remainder of the day; and even after her return to our lodgings, her gaiety continued. I trembled at every word.

Two days went by without anything else happening; the third day was different. When I arrived later than usual from Paris, I learned that Manon, while in the woods, temporarily left her friends. The foreign guy, who had been following her from a distance, came over when she signaled him. She handed him a letter, and he took it with overwhelming joy. He only had time to show his happiness by kissing the note before she vanished from sight. But she seemed unusually cheerful for the rest of the day, and even after we got back to our place, her happiness continued. I was nervous with every word.

"'Are you perfectly sure,' said I, in an agony of fear, to my servant, 'that your eyes have not deceived you?' He called Heaven to witness the truth of what he had told me.

"'Are you absolutely sure,' I said, filled with fear, to my servant, 'that your eyes haven't deceived you?' He called Heaven to witness the truth of what he told me.

"I know not to what excess the torments of my mind would have driven me, if Manon, who heard me come in, had not met me with an air of impatience, and complained of my delay. Before I had time to reply, she loaded me with caresses; and when she found we were alone, she reproached me warmly with the habit I was contracting of staying out so late. My silence gave her an opportunity of continuing; and she then said that for the last three weeks I had never spent one entire day in her society; that she could not endure such prolonged absence; that she should at least expect me to give up a day to her from time to time, and that she particularly wished me to be with her on the following day from morning till night.

"I don’t know how far the turmoil in my mind would have pushed me if Manon, who heard me come in, hadn’t greeted me with impatience and complained about my delay. Before I could respond, she showered me with affection, and once she realized we were alone, she passionately scolded me for my habit of staying out so late. My silence allowed her to go on; she pointed out that for the past three weeks, I hadn’t spent a single whole day with her. She couldn’t stand such long absences and expected me to dedicate at least one day to her every now and then. She especially wanted me to be with her the following day from morning till night."

"'You may be very certain I shall do that,' said I, in rather a sharp tone. She did not appear to notice my annoyance; she seemed to me to have more than her usual cheerfulness; and she described, with infinite pleasantry, the manner in which she had spent the day.

"'You can be sure I will do that,' I said in a rather sharp tone. She didn't seem to notice my annoyance; she appeared to be even more cheerful than usual, and she described, with endless humor, how she had spent the day.

"'Incomprehensible girl!" said I to myself; 'what am I to expect after such a prelude?' The adventures of my first separation occurred to me; nevertheless, I fancied I saw in her cheerfulness, and the affectionate reception she gave me, an air of truth that perfectly accorded with her professions.

"'Incomprehensible girl!' I said to myself; 'what should I expect after such a buildup?' I thought of the adventures from my first separation; still, I believed I saw in her happiness and the warm welcome she gave me a sincerity that matched her claims perfectly."

"It was an easy matter at supper to account for the low spirits which I could not conceal, by attributing them to a loss I had that day sustained at the gaming-table. I considered it most fortunate that the idea of my remaining all the next day at Chaillot was suggested by herself: I should thus have ample time for deliberation. My presence would prevent any fears for at least the next day; and if nothing should occur to compel me to disclose the discovery I had already made, I was determined on the following day to move my establishment into town, and fix myself in a quarter where I should have nothing to apprehend from the interference of princes. This arrangement made me pass the night more tranquilly, but it by no means put an end to the alarm I felt at the prospect of a new infidelity.

"It was easy at dinner to explain my low spirits, which I couldn't hide, by saying it was because of a loss I had that day at the casino. I considered it lucky that she suggested I stay at Chaillot for the entire next day; this would give me plenty of time to think things over. My being there would ease any worries for at least that day, and if nothing happened to force me to reveal what I had already discovered, I was set on moving my stuff into the city the following day, settling in a place where I wouldn’t have to worry about interference from princes. This plan helped me get through the night more peacefully, but it didn't stop the anxiety I felt about the possibility of another betrayal."

"When I awoke in the morning, Manon said to me, that although we were to pass the day at home, she did not at all wish that I should be less carefully dressed than on other occasions; and that she had a particular fancy for doing the duties of my toilette that morning with her own hands. It was an amusement she often indulged in: but she appeared to take more pains on this occasion than I had ever observed before. To gratify her, I was obliged to sit at her toilette table, and try all the different modes she imagined for dressing my hair. In the course of the operation, she made me often turn my head round towards her, and putting both hands upon my shoulders, she would examine me with most anxious curiosity: then, showing her approbation by one or two kisses, she would make me resume my position before the glass, in order to continue her occupation.

When I woke up in the morning, Manon told me that even though we were going to spend the day at home, she didn’t want me to be dressed any less carefully than usual. She had a special desire to do my hair herself that morning. It was something she often enjoyed, but she seemed to put in more effort this time than I had ever seen before. To please her, I had to sit at her vanity and try out all the different styles she imagined for my hair. During the process, she often asked me to turn my head toward her, and with both hands on my shoulders, she would examine me with keen curiosity. Then, showing her approval with one or two kisses, she would have me return to facing the mirror so she could continue her work.

"This amatory trifling engaged us till dinner-time. The pleasure she seemed to derive from it, and her more than usual gaiety, appeared to me so thoroughly natural, that I found it impossible any longer to suspect the treason I had previously conjured up; and I was several times on the point of candidly opening my mind to her, and throwing off a load that had begun to weigh heavily upon my heart: but I flattered myself with the hope that the explanation would every moment come from herself, and I anticipated the delicious triumph this would afford me.

"This lighthearted flirting kept us busy until dinner. The enjoyment she got from it, along with her unusually cheerful mood, felt so genuine to me that I could no longer suspect the betrayal I had imagined before. Several times I almost opened up to her, wanting to share what had been weighing heavily on my heart. But I convinced myself that she would eventually clarify things, and I looked forward to the sweet satisfaction that would bring me."

"We returned to her boudoir. She began again to put my hair in order, and I humoured all her whims; when they came to say that the Prince of —— was below, and wished to see her. The name alone almost threw me into a rage.

"We went back to her bedroom. She started to fix my hair again, and I went along with all her fancies; then they came to say that the Prince of —— was downstairs and wanted to see her. Just hearing his name nearly sent me into a rage."

"'What then,' exclaimed I, as I indignantly pushed her from me, 'who?—what prince?'

"'What then,' I exclaimed indignantly, pushing her away, 'who?—what prince?'"

"She made no answer to my enquiries.

"She didn't respond to my questions."

"'Show him upstairs,' said she coolly to the servant; and then turning towards me, 'Dearest love! you whom I so fervently adore,' she added in the most bewitching tone, 'I only ask of you one moment's patience; one moment, one single moment! I will love you ten thousand times more than ever: your compliance now shall never, during my life, be forgotten.'

"'Show him upstairs,' she said casually to the servant; and then turning to me, 'My dearest love! You whom I adore so passionately,' she added in the most captivating tone, 'I only ask for one moment of your patience; just one moment, a single moment! I will love you ten thousand times more than before: your agreement now will never be forgotten for as long as I live.'"

"Indignation and astonishment deprived me of the power of utterance. She renewed her entreaties, and I could not find adequate expressions to convey my feelings of anger and contempt. But hearing the door of the ante-chamber open, she grasped with one hand my locks, which were floating over my shoulders, while she took her toilette mirror in the other, and with all her strength led me in this manner to the door of the boudoir, which she opened with her knee, and presented to the foreigner, who had been prevented by the noise he heard inside from advancing beyond the middle of the ante-chamber, a spectacle that must have indeed amazed him. I saw a man extremely well dressed, but with a particularly ill-favoured countenance.

Indignation and shock left me speechless. She kept pleading, and I struggled to find the right words to express my anger and disdain. But when I heard the door to the next room open, she grabbed my hair, which was draping over my shoulders, with one hand and held her mirror in the other. With all her strength, she pulled me toward the door of the boudoir, which she opened with her knee, and showed the foreigner, who had been unable to step inside due to the noise, a sight that must have truly astonished him. I saw a man who was very well dressed but had a particularly unappealing face.

"Notwithstanding his embarrassment, he made her a profound bow. Manon gave him no time for speech-making; she held up the mirror before him: 'Look, sir,' said she to him, 'observe yourself minutely, and I only ask you then to do me justice. You wish me to love you: this is the man whom I love, and whom I have sworn to love during my whole life: make the comparison yourself. If you think you can rival him in my affections, tell me at least upon what pretensions; for I solemnly declare to you, that, in the estimation of your most obedient humble servant, all the princes in Italy are not worth a single one of the hairs I now hold in my hand.'

"Despite feeling embarrassed, he gave her a deep bow. Manon didn’t let him say anything; she held up a mirror in front of him: 'Look, sir,' she said, 'examine yourself closely, and then I only ask that you judge me fairly. You want me to love you: this is the man I love, and whom I’ve promised to love for my entire life. Compare yourself to him. If you think you can compete for my affections, at least tell me on what grounds; because I honestly declare that, in my opinion, all the princes in Italy aren’t worth a single hair that I hold in my hand right now.'

"During this whimsical harangue, which she had apparently prepared beforehand, I tried in vain to disengage myself, and feeling compassion for a person of such consideration, I was desirous, by my politeness at least, of making some reparation for this little outrage. But recovering his self-possession with the ease of a man accustomed to the world, he put an end to my feelings of pity by his reply, which was, in my opinion, rude enough.

"During this playful rant, which she seemed to have planned in advance, I tried unsuccessfully to pull away, and feeling sorry for someone of her stature, I wanted to at least make up for this minor affront with my politeness. But recovering his composure like someone who’s used to social situations, he ended my feelings of sympathy with his response, which I thought was quite rude."

"'Young lady! young lady!' said he to her, with a sardonic smile, 'my eyes in truth are opened, and I perceive that you are much less of a novice than I had pictured to myself.'

"'Young lady! young lady!' he said to her with a sarcastic smile, 'I can see clearly now, and I realize that you are far less of a beginner than I had imagined.'"

"He immediately retired without looking at her again, muttering to himself that the French women were quite as bad as those of Italy. I felt little desire, on this occasion, to change his opinion of the fair sex.

"He quickly walked away without glancing at her again, muttering to himself that the French women were just as bad as those from Italy. I had little urge this time to change his view of women."

"Manon let go my hand, threw herself into an armchair, and made the room resound with her shouts of laughter. I candidly confess that I was touched most sensibly by this unexpected proof of her affection, and by the sacrifice of her own interest which I had just witnessed, and which she could only have been induced to make by her excessive love for me. Still, however, I could not help thinking she had gone rather too far. I reproached her with what I called her indiscretion. She told me that my rival, after having besieged her for several days in the Bois de Boulogne, and having made her comprehend his object by signs and grimaces, had actually made an open declaration of love; informing her at the same time of his name and all his titles, by means of a letter, which he had sent through the hands of the coachman who drove her and her companions; that he had promised her, on the other side of the Alps, a brilliant fortune and eternal adoration; that she returned to Chaillot, with the intention of relating to me the whole adventure, but that, fancying it might be made a source of amusement to us, she could not help gratifying her whim; that she accordingly invited the Italian prince, by a flattering note, to pay her a visit; and that it had afforded her equal delight to make me an accomplice, without giving me the least suspicion of her plan. I said not a word of the information I had received through another channel; and the intoxication of triumphant love made me applaud all she had done."

"Manon let go of my hand, threw herself into an armchair, and filled the room with her loud laughter. I honestly admit that I was deeply touched by this unexpected display of her affection and by the sacrifice of her own interests that I had just witnessed, which could only have come from her overwhelming love for me. Still, I couldn't help but think she had gone a bit too far. I called her out on what I saw as her indiscretion. She told me that my rival, after trying to win her over for several days in the Bois de Boulogne and using signs and gestures to make his intentions clear, had openly declared his love; he even revealed his name and titles through a letter sent via the coachman who drove her and her friends. He promised her a fabulous fortune and eternal devotion across the Alps. She returned to Chaillot planning to share the whole story with me, but thinking it might be amusing for us, she couldn't resist indulging her whim; so she sent a flattering note to invite the Italian prince for a visit. It brought her just as much joy to include me in her scheme without giving me the slightest hint of her plan. I didn't say a word about what I had heard from another source, and the intoxicating thrill of triumphant love made me praise everything she had done."




IX


'Twas ever thus;—from childhood's hour
   I've seen my fondest hopes decay;—
I never loved a tree or flower,
   But it was sure to fade away;
I never nursed a dear Gazelle,
   To glad me with its dark-blue eye,
But, when it came to know me well,
   And love me, it was sure to die.
         MOORE.

It has always been this way;—since I was a child
   I've watched my dearest dreams fade away;—
I never loved a tree or a flower,
   But it was bound to wither away;
I never cared for a dear Gazelle,
   To make me happy with its dark-blue eye,
But when it truly got to know me,
   And loved me, it was sure to die.
         MOORE.


"During my life I have remarked that fate has invariably chosen for the time of its severest visitations, those moments when my fortune seemed established on the firmest basis. In the friendship of M. de T——, and the tender affections of Manon, I imagined myself so thoroughly happy, that I could not harbour the slightest apprehension of any new misfortune: there was one, nevertheless, at this very period impending, which reduced me to the state in which you beheld me at Passy, and which eventually brought in its train miseries of so deplorable a nature, that you will have difficulty in believing the simple recital that follows.

"Throughout my life, I've noticed that fate always seems to strike the hardest when I felt the most secure in my good fortune. With M. de T—— as my friend and the loving affection of Manon, I thought I was completely happy, and I had no fears of any new misfortunes. However, there was one looming at that very moment, which left me in the state you saw me in at Passy, and it eventually led to such miserable circumstances that you might find it hard to believe the straightforward account that follows."

"One evening, when M. de T—— remained to sup with us, we heard the sound of a carriage stopping at the door of the inn. Curiosity tempted us to see who it was that arrived at this hour. They told us it was young G—— M——, the son of our most vindictive enemy, of that debauched old sinner who had incarcerated me in St. Lazare, and Manon in the Hospital. His name made the blood mount to my cheeks. 'It is Providence that has led him here,' said I to M. de T——, that I may punish him for the cowardly baseness of his father. He shall not escape without our measuring swords at least.' M. de T——, who knew him, and was even one of his most intimate friends, tried to moderate my feelings of anger towards him. He assured me that he was a most amiable young man, and so little capable of countenancing his father's conduct, that I could not be many minutes in his society without feeling esteem and affection for him. After saying many more things in his praise, he begged my permission to invite him to come and sit in our apartment, as well as to share the remainder of our supper. As to the objection of Manon being exposed by this proceeding to any danger, he pledged his honour and good faith, that when once the young man became acquainted with us, we should find in him a most zealous defender. After such an assurance, I could offer no further opposition.

"One evening, when M. de T—— stayed to have dinner with us, we heard a carriage pull up at the inn. Our curiosity urged us to see who had arrived at this hour. We were told it was young G—— M——, the son of our fiercest enemy, that corrupt old man who had locked me up in St. Lazare and Manon in the Hospital. Just hearing his name made my face flush with anger. 'It’s fate that has brought him here,' I said to M. de T——, 'so I can get revenge for the cowardly actions of his father. He won't escape without us at least crossing swords.' M. de T——, who knew him and was close friends with him, tried to calm my anger. He assured me that G—— M—— was a really nice young man, completely unable to support his father's behavior, and that I wouldn't be able to spend much time with him without feeling respect and fondness for him. After saying many more good things about him, he asked if he could invite him to join us in our room and share the rest of our dinner. As for the concern about Manon being in any danger because of this, he promised on his honor that once the young man got to know us, we'd find him to be a devoted protector. With such a promise, I couldn't argue anymore."

"M. de T—— did not introduce him without delaying a few moments outside, to let him know who we were. He certainly came in with an air that prepossessed us in his favour: he shook hands with me; we sat down; he admired Manon; he appeared pleased with me, and with everything that belonged to us; and he ate with an appetite that did abundant honour to our hospitality.

"M. de T—— didn't bring him in without pausing for a moment outside to tell him who we were. He definitely entered with a charm that won us over; he shook my hand, we took our seats, he complimented Manon, and he seemed happy with me and everything we had. He ate with an enthusiasm that truly honored our hospitality."

"When the table was cleared, our conversation became more serious. He hung down his head while he spoke of his father's conduct towards us. He made, on his own part, the most submissive excuses. 'I say the less upon the subject,' said he, 'because I do not wish to recall a circumstance that fills me with grief and shame.' If he were sincere in the beginning, he became much more so in the end, for the conversation had not lasted half an hour, when I perceived that Manon's charms had made a visible impression upon him. His looks and his manner became by degrees more tender. He, however, allowed no expression to escape him; but, without even the aid of jealousy, I had had experience enough in love affairs to discern what was passing.

Once the table was cleared, our conversation turned more serious. He lowered his head as he talked about his father's behavior toward us. He offered the most submissive apologies on his part. "I say less on this topic," he said, "because I don’t want to bring up a situation that fills me with sadness and shame." If he was sincere at first, he became even more so by the end, as it hadn’t been half an hour into our talk when I noticed that Manon’s charm had clearly affected him. His expression and demeanor gradually grew more tender. However, he didn’t let any words slip out; yet, without even the help of jealousy, I had enough experience with love matters to see what was happening.

"He remained with us till a late hour in the night, and before he took his leave, congratulated himself on having made our acquaintance, and begged permission to call and renew the offer of his services. He went off next morning with M. de T——, who accepted the offer of a seat in his carriage.

"He stayed with us until late at night, and before he left, he congratulated himself on meeting us and asked if he could come by again to offer his services. He left the next morning with M. de T——, who accepted the invitation to ride in his carriage."

"I felt, as I before said, not the slightest symptom of jealousy: I had a more foolish confidence than ever in Manon's vows. This dear creature had so absolute a dominion over my whole soul and affections, that I could give place to no other sentiment towards her than that of admiration and love. Far from considering it a crime that she should have pleased young G—— M——, I was gratified by the effect of her charms, and experienced only a feeling of pride in being loved by a girl whom the whole world found so enchanting. I did not even deem it worth while to mention my suspicions to her. We were for some days occupied in arranging her new wardrobe, and in considering whether we might venture to the theatre without the risk of being recognised. M. de T—— came again to see us before the end of the week, and we consulted him upon this point. He saw clearly that the way to please Manon was to say yes: we resolved to go all together that same evening.

"I felt, as I mentioned before, not the slightest hint of jealousy: I had an even more foolish confidence than ever in Manon's promises. This dear girl had such complete control over my heart and feelings that I could only feel admiration and love for her. Rather than seeing it as a betrayal that she had caught the eye of young G—— M——, I was pleased by the impact of her beauty and only felt pride in being loved by someone whom everyone found so captivating. I didn't even think it was worth bringing up my doubts with her. For a few days, we were busy putting together her new wardrobe and figuring out if we could go to the theater without risking being recognized. M. de T—— came to visit us again before the week was out, and we asked him about this. He clearly understood that to make Manon happy, the answer was to agree: we decided to go out all together that very evening."

"We were not able, however, to carry this intention into effect; for, having taken me aside, 'I have been in the greatest embarrassment,' said he to me, 'since I saw you, and that is the cause of my visiting you today. G—— M—— is in love with your mistress: he told me so in confidence; I am his intimate friend, and disposed to do him any service in my power; but I am not less devoted to you; his designs appeared to me unjustifiable, and I expressed my disapprobation of them; I should not have divulged his secret, if he had only intended to use fair and ordinary means for gaining Manon's affections; but he is aware of her capricious disposition; he has learned, God knows how, that her ruling passion is for affluence and pleasure; and, as he is already in possession of a considerable fortune, he declared his intention of tempting her at once with a present of great value, and the offer of an annuity of six thousand francs; if I had in all other points considered you both in an equal light, I should have had perhaps to do more violence to my feelings in betraying him: but a sense of justice as well as of friendship was on your side, and the more so from having been myself the imprudent, though unconscious, cause of his passion in introducing him here. I feel it my duty therefore to avert any evil consequences from the mischief I have inadvertently caused.

We weren’t able to carry out that plan, though; because, after pulling me aside, he said, “I’ve been in quite a predicament since I saw you, and that’s why I’m here today. G—— M—— is in love with your girl; he confided in me about it. I’m his close friend and willing to help him in any way I can, but I’m also loyal to you. His intentions seem unjustifiable to me, and I let him know that. I wouldn’t have revealed his secret if he just planned to use fair and normal ways to win Manon’s heart; but he knows about her unpredictable nature. Somehow, he’s figured out that her biggest desires are wealth and pleasure, and since he already has a good amount of money, he plans to tempt her right away with a valuable gift and the offer of an annuity of six thousand francs. If I had seen you both on equal footing in every other way, it might have been harder for me to betray him. But a sense of justice, as well as loyalty to our friendship, is on your side, especially since I was the careless, though unintentional, reason for his feelings when I introduced him here. So, I feel it’s my duty to prevent any negative outcomes from the trouble I accidentally caused.”

"I thanked M. de T—— for rendering me so important a service, and confessed to him, in a like spirit of confidence, that Manon's disposition was precisely what G—— M—— had imagined; that is to say, that she was incapable of enduring even the thought of poverty. 'However,' said I to him, 'when it is a mere question of more or less, I do not believe that she would give me up for any other person; I can afford to let her want for nothing, and I have from day to day reason to hope that my fortune will improve; I only dread one thing,' continued I, 'which is, that G—— M—— may take unfair advantage of the knowledge he has of our place of residence, and bring us into trouble by disclosing it.'

"I thanked M. de T—— for doing me such an important favor, and I confided in him, with the same sense of trust, that Manon's character was exactly what G—— M—— had predicted; that is, she couldn't bear even the thought of poverty. 'However,' I told him, 'when it comes to options, I don't think she would leave me for anyone else; I can provide for her completely, and each day I have more reasons to believe my financial situation will get better; I'm just afraid of one thing,' I added, 'which is that G—— M—— might take advantage of knowing where we live and cause us trouble by revealing it.'"

"M. de T—— assured me that I might be perfectly easy upon that head; that G—— M—— might be capable of a silly passion, but not of an act of baseness; that if he ever could be villain enough for such a thing, he, de T——, would be the first to punish him, and by that means make reparation for the mischief he had occasioned. 'I feel grateful for what you say,' said I, 'but the mischief will have been all done, and the remedy even seems doubtful; the wisest plan therefore will be to quit Chaillot, and go to reside elsewhere.' 'Very true,' said M. de T——, 'but you will not be able to do it quickly enough, for G—— M—— is to be here at noon; he told me so yesterday, and it was that intelligence that made me come so early this morning to inform you of his intentions. You may expect him every moment.'"

"M. de T—— reassured me that I shouldn't worry about that; that G—— M—— might have some foolish crush, but he wouldn't do anything low. If he ever became bad enough to do something like that, M. de T—— promised he would be the first to make him pay for it, trying to fix the trouble he caused. 'I appreciate what you're saying,' I replied, 'but the damage will already be done, and the fix seems uncertain; so the best plan is to leave Chaillot and find another place to stay.' 'That's true,' M. de T—— agreed, 'but you won't be able to leave in time, because G—— M—— is coming here at noon; he told me that yesterday, which is why I rushed here early this morning to let you know his plans. You should expect him any minute now.'"

"The urgency of the occasion made me view this matter in a more serious light. As it seemed to me impossible to escape the visit of G—— M——, and perhaps equally so to prevent him from making his declaration to Manon, I resolved to tell her beforehand of the designs of my new rival. I fancied that when she knew I was aware of the offers that would be made to her, and made probably in my presence, she would be the more likely to reject them. I told M. de T—— of my intention, and he observed that he thought it a matter of extreme delicacy. 'I admit it,' said I, 'but no man ever had more reason for confiding in a mistress, than I have for relying on the affection of mine. The only thing that could possibly for a moment blind her, is the splendour of his offers; no doubt she loves her ease, but she loves me also; and in my present circumstances, I cannot believe that she would abandon me for the son of the man who had incarcerated her in the Magdalen.' In fine, I persisted in my intentions, and taking Manon aside, I candidly told her what I had learned.

The urgency of the situation made me see this matter more seriously. Since it seemed impossible to avoid the visit from G—— M——, and maybe just as difficult to stop him from declaring his feelings to Manon, I decided to inform her in advance about the plans of my new rival. I thought that once she knew I was aware of the offers he would make, likely in my presence, she would be more likely to turn him down. I told M. de T—— about my plan, and he pointed out that he thought it was a matter of great delicacy. "I admit it," I said, "but no one has more reason to trust a mistress than I do to rely on the affection of mine. The only thing that could possibly distract her even for a moment is the allure of his offers; surely she enjoys comfort, but she loves me too; and in my current situation, I can’t believe she would leave me for the son of the man who had imprisoned her in the Magdalen." In the end, I stuck to my intentions, and pulling Manon aside, I honestly told her what I had learned.

"She thanked me for the good opinion I entertained of her, and promised to receive G—— M——'s offers in a way that should prevent a repetition of them. 'No,' said I, 'you must not irritate him by incivility: he has it in his power to injure us. But you know well enough, you little rogue,' continued I, smiling, 'how to rid yourself of a disagreeable or useless lover!' After a moment's pause she said: 'I have just thought of an admirable plan, and I certainly have a fertile invention. G—— M—— is the son of our bitterest enemy: we must avenge ourselves on the father, not through the son's person, but through his purse. My plan is to listen to his proposals, accept his presents, and then laugh at him.'

"She thanked me for the good opinion I had of her and promised to handle G—— M——'s offers in a way that would keep them from coming back. 'No,' I said, 'you shouldn't provoke him with rudeness: he has the ability to harm us. But you know very well, you little trickster,' I added with a smile, 'how to get rid of an annoying or pointless lover!' After a moment's pause, she said: 'I just thought of a brilliant plan, and I definitely have a creative mind. G—— M—— is the son of our greatest enemy: we should get back at the father, not through his son, but through his finances. My plan is to hear his proposals, accept his gifts, and then laugh at him.'"

"'The project is not a bad one,' said I to her; 'but you forget, my dear child, that it is precisely the same course that conducted us formerly to the penitentiary.' I represented to her the danger of such an enterprise; she replied, that the only thing necessary was to take our measures with caution, and she found an answer to every objection I started. 'Show me the lover who does not blindly humour every whim of an adored mistress, and I will then allow that I was wrong in yielding so easily on this occasion.' The resolution was taken to make a dupe of G——M——, and by an unforeseen and unlucky turn of fortune, I became the victim myself.

"The project isn't a bad idea," I told her, "but you’re forgetting, my dear, that this is exactly what landed us in jail before." I pointed out the risks of such a venture; she countered that all we needed to do was be careful, and she had a response to every concern I raised. "Show me a lover who doesn’t blindly indulge every whim of his beloved, and then I’ll admit I was wrong to give in so easily this time." We decided to trick G——M——, but due to an unexpected and unfortunate turn of events, I ended up being the one fooled.

"About eleven o'clock his carriage drove up to the door. He made the most complaisant and refined speeches upon the liberty he had taken of coming to dine with us uninvited. He was not surprised at meeting M. de T——, who had the night before promised to meet him there, and who had, under some pretext or other, refused a seat in his carriage. Although there was not a single person in the party who was not at heart meditating treachery, we all sat down with an air of mutual confidence and friendship. G—— M—— easily found an opportunity of declaring his sentiments to Manon. I did not wish to annoy him by appearing vigilant, so I left the room purposely for several minutes.

About eleven o'clock, his carriage pulled up to the door. He made the most polite and refined remarks about the privilege he took in coming to dine with us uninvited. He wasn't surprised to see Mr. de T——, who had promised the night before to join him, and who had, under some pretext, declined a seat in his carriage. Even though everyone at the gathering was secretly plotting betrayal, we all sat down with an air of mutual trust and friendship. G—— M—— easily found a moment to express his feelings to Manon. I didn't want to irritate him by appearing too watchful, so I stepped out of the room on purpose for several minutes.

"I perceived on my return that he had not had to encounter any very discouraging austerity on Manon's part, for he was in the best possible spirits. I affected good humour also. He was laughing in his mind at my simplicity, while I was not less diverted by his own. During the whole evening we were thus supplying to each other an inexhaustible fund of amusement. I contrived, before his departure, to let him have Manon for another moment to himself; so that he had reason to applaud my complaisance, as well as the hospitable reception I had given him.

When I returned, I noticed that he hadn’t faced any serious issues with Manon since he seemed to be in great spirits. I pretended to be in a good mood too. He was secretly amused by my naivety, while I found his behavior just as entertaining. Throughout the evening, we kept each other laughing nonstop. Before he left, I managed to give him a moment alone with Manon, so he had every reason to appreciate my kindness and the warm welcome I had offered him.

"As soon as he got into his carriage with M. de T——, Manon ran towards me with extended arms, and embraced me; laughing all the while immoderately. She repeated all his speeches and proposals, without altering a word. This was the substance: He of course adored her; and wished to share with her a large fortune of which he was already in possession, without counting what he was to inherit at his father's death. She should be sole mistress of his heart and fortune; and as an immediate token of his liberality, he was ready at once to supply her with an equipage, a furnished house, a lady's maid, three footmen, and a man-cook.

"As soon as he got into his carriage with M. de T——, Manon ran towards me with her arms wide open and hugged me, laughing uncontrollably the whole time. She repeated all his words and proposals exactly as he said them. The gist of it was this: He clearly adored her and wanted to share his significant wealth with her, not to mention the inheritance he would receive upon his father’s death. She would be the sole mistress of his heart and fortune; and as a show of his generosity, he was ready to immediately provide her with a carriage, a furnished house, a lady's maid, three footmen, and a male cook."

"'There is indeed a son,' said I, 'very different from his father! But tell me truly, now, does not such an offer tempt you?' 'Me!' she replied, adapting to the idea two verses from Racine—

"'There is indeed a son,' I said, 'who is very different from his father! But tell me honestly, doesn’t such an offer tempt you?' 'Me!' she replied, quoting two lines from Racine—

Moi! vous me soupconnez de cette perfidie?
Moi! je pourrais souffrir un visage odieux,
Qui rappelle toujours l'Hopital a mes yeux?

Moi! do you suspect me of such treachery?
Me! I could endure an ugly face,
That always reminds me of the Hospital in my eyes?


'No!' replied I, continuing the parody—

'No!' I replied, keeping up the joke—

J'aurais peine a penser que l'Hopital, madame,
Fut un trait dont l'amour l'eut grave dans votre ame.

J'aurais du mal à croire que l'Hôpital, madame,
Fut un symbole que l'amour a gravé dans votre âme.

'But it assuredly is a temptation—a furnished house, a lady's maid, a cook, a carriage, and three servants—gallantry can offer but few more seductive temptations.'

'But it really is a temptation—a furnished house, a lady's maid, a cook, a carriage, and three servants—romance can offer very few more seductive temptations.'

"She protested that her heart was entirely mine, and that it was for the future only open to the impressions I chose to make upon it. 'I look upon his promises,' said she, 'as an instrument for revenge, rather than as a mark of love.' I asked her if she thought of accepting the hotel and the carriage. She replied that his money was all she wanted."

"She insisted that her heart belonged completely to me and that it was only open to the feelings I chose to create in it. 'I see his promises,' she said, 'as a tool for revenge rather than a sign of love.' I asked her if she was considering accepting the hotel and the carriage. She replied that all she wanted was his money."

The difficulty was, how to obtain the one without the other; we resolved to wait for a detailed explanation of the whole project in a letter which G—— M—— promised to write to her, and which in fact she received next morning by a servant out of livery, who, very cleverly, contrived an opportunity of speaking to her alone.

The challenge was figuring out how to get one without the other; we decided to wait for a detailed explanation of the entire project in a letter that G—— M—— promised to write to her, and she actually received it the next morning from a servant not in uniform, who cleverly created a chance to speak to her privately.

She told him to wait for an answer, and immediately brought the letter to me: we opened it together.

She told him to wait for a response and quickly brought the letter to me: we opened it together.

"Passing over the usual commonplace expressions of tenderness, it gave a particular detail of my rival's promises. There were no limits to the expense. He engaged to pay her down ten thousand francs on her taking possession of the hotel, and to supply her expenditure in such a way as that she should never have less than that sum at her command. The appointed day for her entering into possession was close at hand. He only required two days for all his preparations, and he mentioned the name of the street and the hotel, where he promised to be in waiting for her in the afternoon of the second day, if she could manage to escape my vigilance. That was the only point upon which he begged of her to relieve his uneasiness; he seemed to be quite satisfied upon every other: but he added that, if she apprehended any difficulty in escaping from me, he could find sure means for facilitating her flight.

"Skipping the usual sweet nothings, it went into detail about my rival's promises. Money was no object. He promised to give her ten thousand francs when she took over the hotel and to cover her expenses so she'd always have that amount available. The day for her to take possession was approaching fast. He only needed two days for his preparations and mentioned the name of the street and the hotel, where he promised to wait for her on the afternoon of the second day if she could slip past my watch. That was the only thing he asked her to help him with; he seemed pretty confident about everything else. But he also said that if she thought escaping from me would be difficult, he could find reliable ways to help her get away."

"G—— M—— the younger was more cunning than the old gentleman. He wanted to secure his prey before he counted out the cash. We considered what course Manon should adopt. I made another effort to induce her to give up the scheme, and strongly represented all its dangers; nothing, however, could shake her determination.

"G—— M—— the younger was more cunning than the old man. He wanted to catch his target before counting out the money. We thought about what approach Manon should take. I tried again to convince her to abandon the plan and pointed out all the risks; however, nothing could change her mind."

"Her answer to G—— M—— was brief, merely assuring him that she could be, without the least difficulty, in Paris on the appointed day and that he might expect her with certainty.

"Her response to G—— M—— was brief, simply assuring him that she could easily be in Paris on the scheduled day and that he could count on her for sure."

"We then resolved, that I should instantly hire lodgings in some village on the other side of Paris, and that I should take our luggage with me; that in the afternoon of the following day, which was the time appointed, she should go to Paris; that, after receiving G—— M——'s presents, she should earnestly entreat him to take her to the theatre; that she should carry with her as large a portion of the money as she could, and charge my servant with the remainder, for it was agreed that he was to accompany her. He was the man who had rescued her from the Magdalen, and he was devotedly attached to us. I was to be with a hackney-coach at the end of the street of St. Andre-des-arcs, and to leave it there about seven o'clock, while I stole, under cover of the twilight, to the door of the theatre. Manon promised to make some excuse for quitting her box for a moment, when she would come down and join me. The rest could be easily done. We were then to return to my hackney-coach, and quit Paris by the Faubourg St. Antoine, which was the road to our new residence.

We then decided that I should quickly find a place to stay in a village on the other side of Paris and take our luggage with me. The next afternoon, as planned, she would head to Paris. After receiving G—— M——'s gifts, she would sincerely ask him to take her to the theater. She was to bring along as much cash as she could and leave the rest with my servant, since it was agreed that he would go with her. He was the man who had saved her from the Magdalen, and he was very loyal to us. I would wait in a cab at the end of the street of St. Andre-des-arcs and leave it there around seven o'clock while I quietly made my way to the theater door under the cover of twilight. Manon promised to come up with an excuse to leave her box for a moment, then she would come down and meet me. The rest would be easy. We would then head back to my cab and leave Paris via the Faubourg St. Antoine, which was the route to our new home.

"This plan, extravagant as it was, appeared to us satisfactorily arranged. But our greatest folly was in imagining that, succeed as we might in its execution, it would be possible for us to escape the consequences. Nevertheless, we exposed ourselves to all risk with the blindest confidence. Manon took her departure with Marcel—so was the servant called. I could not help feeling a pang as she took leave of me. 'Manon,' said I, 'do not deceive me; will you be faithful to me?' She complained, in the tenderest tone, of my want of confidence, and renewed all her protestations of eternal love.

"This plan, as extravagant as it was, seemed to us to be well arranged. But our biggest mistake was thinking that, no matter how well we executed it, we could escape the consequences. Still, we put ourselves at all kinds of risk with blind faith. Manon left with Marcel—that was the servant's name. I couldn't help but feel a pang as she said goodbye to me. 'Manon,' I said, 'please don’t lie to me; will you stay true to me?' She complained, in the most tender tone, about my lack of faith and renewed all her vows of eternal love."

"She was to be in Paris at three o'clock. I went some time after. I spent the remainder of the afternoon moping in the Cafe de Fere, near the Pont St. Michel. I remained there till nightfall. I then hired a hackney-coach, which I placed, according to our plan, at the end of the street of St. Andre-des-arcs, and went on foot to the door of the theatre. I was surprised at not seeing Marcel, who was to have been there waiting for me. I waited patiently for a full hour, standing among a crowd of lackeys, and gazing at every person that passed. At length, seven o'clock having struck, without my being able to discover anything or any person connected with our project, I procured a pit ticket, in order to ascertain if Manon and G—— M—— were in the boxes. Neither one nor the other could I find. I returned to the door, where I again stopped for a quarter of an hour, in an agony of impatience and uneasiness. No person appeared, and I went back to the coach, without knowing what to conjecture. The coachman, seeing me, advanced a few paces towards me, and said, with a mysterious air, that a very handsome young person had been waiting more than an hour for me in the coach; that she described me so exactly that he could not be mistaken, and having learned that I intended to return, she said she would enter the coach and wait with patience.

"She was supposed to be in Paris at three o'clock. I arrived a little later. I spent the rest of the afternoon sulking at the Cafe de Fere, near the Pont St. Michel. I stayed there until nightfall. I then hired a cab, which I positioned, as planned, at the end of St. Andre-des-arcs street, and walked to the theater door. I was surprised not to see Marcel, who was supposed to be waiting for me. I waited patiently for a whole hour, standing among a crowd of attendants and watching everyone who passed by. Finally, when seven o'clock struck, without being able to find anything or anyone related to our plan, I got a pit ticket to check if Manon and G—— M—— were in the boxes. Neither of them was there. I went back to the door, where I lingered for another fifteen minutes, consumed with impatience and worry. No one showed up, so I returned to the cab, completely unsure of what to think. The driver, seeing me, stepped forward and said, in a mysterious tone, that a very attractive young lady had been waiting for me in the cab for over an hour; she described me so accurately that he couldn't be mistaken, and after learning that I was on my way back, she said she would get in the cab and wait patiently."

"I felt confident that it was Manon. I approached. I beheld a very pretty face, certainly, but alas, not hers. The lady asked, in a voice that I had never before heard, whether she had the honour of speaking to the Chevalier des Grieux? I answered, 'That is my name.' 'I have a letter for you,' said she, 'which will tell you what has brought me here, and by what means I learned your name.' I begged she would allow me a few moments to read it in an adjoining cafe. She proposed to follow me, and advised me to ask for a private room, to which I consented. 'Who is the writer of this letter?' I enquired. She referred me to the letter itself.

"I felt sure it was Manon. I walked over. I saw a really pretty face, but unfortunately, it wasn't hers. The lady asked, in a voice I had never heard before, if she had the honor of speaking to Chevalier des Grieux. I replied, 'That's my name.' 'I have a letter for you,' she said, 'which will explain why I'm here and how I found out your name.' I asked if I could take a few moments to read it in a nearby café. She suggested following me and advised that I should ask for a private room, which I agreed to. 'Who wrote this letter?' I asked. She directed me to the letter itself."

"I recognised Manon's hand. This is nearly the substance of the letter: G—— M—— had received her with a politeness and magnificence beyond anything she had previously conceived. He had loaded her with the most gorgeous presents. She had the prospect of almost imperial splendour. She assured me, however, that she could not forget me amidst all this magnificence; but that, not being able to prevail on G—— M—— to take her that evening to the play, she was obliged to defer the pleasure of seeing me; and that, as a slight consolation for the disappointment which she feared this might cause me, she had found a messenger in one of the loveliest girls in all Paris. She signed herself, 'Your loving and constant, MANON LESCAUT.'

"I recognized Manon's handwriting. This is pretty much what the letter said: G—— M—— had welcomed her with a kindness and grandeur beyond anything she had ever imagined. He had showered her with the most beautiful gifts. She was looking forward to almost royal luxury. However, she assured me that she wouldn't forget me amidst all this splendor; but since she couldn't convince G—— M—— to take her to the theater that evening, she had to postpone the pleasure of seeing me. As a small consolation for the disappointment she worried I would feel, she had found a messenger in one of the prettiest girls in all of Paris. She signed it, 'Your loving and constant, MANON LESCAUT.'"

"There was something so cruel and so insulting in the letter, that, what between indignation and grief, I resolutely determined to forget eternally my ungrateful and perjured mistress. I looked at the young woman who stood before me: she was exceedingly pretty, and I could have wished that she had been sufficiently so to render me inconstant in my turn. But there were wanting those lovely and languishing eyes, that divine gracefulness, that exquisite complexion, in fine, those innumerable charms which nature had so profusely lavished upon the perfidious Manon. 'No, no,' said I, turning away from her; 'the ungrateful wretch who sent you knew in her heart that she was sending you on a useless errand. Return to her; and tell her from me, to triumph in her crime, and enjoy it, if she can, without remorse. I abandon her in despair, and, at the same time, renounce all women, who, without her fascination, are no doubt her equals in baseness and infidelity.'

"There was something so cruel and insulting in the letter that, filled with anger and sadness, I firmly decided to forget my ungrateful and deceitful mistress forever. I looked at the young woman standing in front of me: she was very pretty, and I secretly wished she were charming enough to make me disloyal in response. But she lacked those beautiful, longing eyes, that divine grace, that exquisite complexion, and all those countless charms that nature had generously given to the treacherous Manon. 'No, no,' I said, turning away from her; 'the ungrateful wretch who sent you knew in her heart that she was sending you on a pointless mission. Go back to her and tell her from me to revel in her wrongdoing and enjoy it, if she can, without feeling guilty. I abandon her in despair, and at the same time, I reject all women, who, without her allure, are surely just as base and unfaithful as she is.'"

"I was then on the point of going away, determined never to bestow another thought on Manon: the mortal jealousy that was racking my heart lay concealed under a dark and sullen melancholy, and I fancied, because I felt none of those violent emotions which I had experienced upon former occasions, that I had shaken off my thraldom. Alas! I was even at that moment infinitely more the dupe of love, than of G—— M—— and Manon.

"I was just about to leave, determined never to think about Manon again: the deep jealousy tearing at my heart was hidden beneath a dark and gloomy sadness, and I thought, because I didn’t feel any of the intense emotions I had experienced before, that I had finally broken free from my chains. Unfortunately, at that moment, I was even more of a fool for love than I was for G—— M—— and Manon."

"The girl who had brought the letter, seeing me about to depart, asked me what I wished her to say to M. G—— M——, and to the lady who was with him? At this question, I stepped back again into the room, and by one of those unaccountable transitions that are only known to the victims of violent passion, I passed in an instant from the state of subdued tranquillity which I have just described, into an ungovernable fury 'Away!' said I to her, 'tell the traitor G—— M——and his abandoned mistress the state of despair into which your accursed mission has cast me; but warn them that it shall not be long a source of amusement to them, and that my own hands shall be warmed with the heart's blood of both!' I sank back upon a chair; my hat fell on one side, and my cane upon the other: torrents of bitter tears rolled down my cheeks. The paroxysm of rage changed into a profound and silent grief: I did nothing but weep and sigh. 'Approach, my child, approach,' said I to the young girl; 'approach, since it is you they have sent to bring me comfort; tell me whether you have any balm to administer for the pangs of despair and rage—any argument to offer against the crime of self-destruction, which I have resolved upon, after ridding the world of two perfidious monsters. Yes, approach,' continued I, perceiving that she advanced with timid and doubtful steps; 'come and dry my sorrows; come and restore peace to my mind; come and tell me that at least you love me: you are handsome—I may perhaps love you in return.' The poor child, who was only sixteen or seventeen years of age, and who appeared more modest than girls of her class generally are, was thunderstruck at this unusual scene. She however gently approached to caress me, when with uplifted hands I rudely repulsed her. 'What do you wish with me?' exclaimed I to her. 'Ah! you are a woman, and of a sex I abhor, and can no longer tolerate; the very gentleness of your look threatens me with some new treason. Go, leave me here alone!' She made me a curtsy without uttering a word, and turned to go out. I called to her to stop: 'Tell me at least,' said I, 'wherefore—how—with what design they sent you here? how did you discover my name, or the place where you could find me?'

"The girl who had brought the letter, seeing me about to leave, asked what I wanted her to say to M. G—— M—— and the lady with him. At this question, I stepped back into the room, and in one of those inexplicable shifts known only to those consumed by intense emotion, I went from a state of calm to uncontrollable rage in an instant. 'Go!' I told her, 'inform the traitor G—— M—— and his shameless mistress of the despair your cursed mission has brought me; but caution them that it won't be a source of amusement much longer, and that I will take their blood on my own hands!' I sank back into a chair; my hat fell to one side, and my cane to the other: torrents of bitter tears streamed down my face. My rage gave way to deep and silent grief; all I could do was weep and sigh. 'Come closer, my child, come closer,' I said to the young girl; 'come since you've been sent to bring me comfort; tell me if you have any remedy for the pain of despair and rage—any argument against the self-destruction I've resolved on after getting rid of two treacherous monsters. Yes, come,' I continued, noticing she advanced timidly; 'come and dry my tears; come and restore peace to my mind; come and tell me that at least you love me: you are pretty—I might love you back.' The poor girl, who was only sixteen or seventeen and seemed more modest than girls of her background usually are, was stunned by this strange scene. She gently approached to comfort me, but with raised hands, I roughly pushed her away. 'What do you want from me?' I exclaimed. 'Ah! you're a woman, and of a sex I loathe and can no longer tolerate; the very softness of your gaze threatens me with more treachery. Leave me alone!' She curtsied without saying a word and turned to leave. I called her back: 'At least tell me,' I said, 'why—how—with what purpose they sent you here? How did you find out my name or where to look for me?'"

"She told me that she had long known M. G—— M——; that he had sent for her that evening about five o'clock; and that, having followed the servant who had been dispatched to her, she was shown into a large house, where she found him playing at picquet with a beautiful young woman; and that they both charged her to deliver the letter into my hands, after telling her that she would find me in a hackney-coach at the bottom of the street of St. Andre. I asked if they had said nothing more. She blushed while she replied, that they had certainly made her believe that I should be glad of her society. 'They have deceived you too,' said I, 'my poor girl—they have deceived you; you are a woman, and probably wish for a lover; but you must find one who is rich and happy, and it is not here you will find him. Return, return to M. G—— M——; he possesses everything requisite to make a man beloved. He has furnished houses and equipages to bestow, while I, who have nothing but constancy of love to offer, am despised for my poverty, and laughed at for my simplicity.'

"She told me that she had known M. G—— M—— for a long time; that he had sent for her that

"I continued in a tone of sorrow or violence, as these feelings alternately took possession of my mind. However, by the very excess of my agitation, I became gradually so subdued as to be able calmly to reflect upon the situation of affairs. I compared this new misfortune with those which I had already experienced of the same kind, and I could not perceive that there was any more reason for despair now, than upon former occasions. I knew Manon: why then distress myself on account of a calamity which I could not but have plainly foreseen? Why not rather think of seeking a remedy? there was yet time; I at least ought not to spare my own exertions, if I wished to avoid the bitter reproach of having contributed, by my own indolence, to my misery. I thereupon set about considering every means of raising a gleam of hope.

I went on feeling sad or angry, as those emotions took turns overtaking my mind. However, as my distress grew more intense, I gradually became calm enough to think about the situation. I compared this latest misfortune to similar ones I had faced before, and I realized there was no more reason to despair now than there had been in the past. I knew Manon; so why should I let myself be upset over a disaster I should have expected? Why not focus on finding a solution? There was still time; I had to put in my effort if I wanted to avoid the bitter regret of having contributed to my own suffering through laziness. So, I began to explore every possible way to spark a glimmer of hope.

"To attempt to take her by main force from the hands of G——M—— was too desperate a project, calculated only to ruin me, and without the slightest probability of succeeding. But it seemed to me that if I could ensure a moment's interview with her, I could not fail to regain my influence over her affections. I so well knew how to excite her sensibilities! I was so confident of her love for me! The very whim even of sending me a pretty woman by way of consoling me, I would stake my existence, was her idea, and that it was the suggestion of her own sincere sympathy for my sufferings.

"Trying to forcibly take her away from G——M—— was a desperate plan, likely to ruin me with no chance of success. But I thought that if I could just get a moment alone with her, I could easily win back her affection. I knew exactly how to stir her emotions! I was so sure of her love for me! I would bet my life that sending me a beautiful woman to comfort me was her idea, coming from her genuine sympathy for my pain."

"I resolved to exert every nerve to procure an interview. After a multitude of plans which I canvassed one after another, I fixed upon the following: M. de T—— had shown so much sincerity in the services he had rendered me, that I could not entertain a doubt of his zeal and good faith. I proposed to call upon him at once, and make him send for G—— M——, under pretence of some important business. Half an hour would suffice to enable me to see Manon. I thought it would not be difficult to get introduced into her apartment during G—— M——'s absence.

"I decided to do everything I could to arrange a meeting. After going through a ton of ideas one by one, I settled on this: M. de T—— had been so genuine in the help he gave me that I had no doubt about his dedication and honesty. I planned to visit him right away and have him call for G—— M——, pretending there was some important matter to discuss. Half an hour would be enough for me to see Manon. I figured it wouldn't be hard to slip into her room while G—— M—— was away."

"This determination pacified me, and I gave a liberal present to the girl, who was still with me; and in order to prevent her from returning to those who had sent her, I took down her address, and half promised to call upon her at a later hour. I then got into the hackney-coach, and drove quickly to M. de T——'s. I was fortunate enough to find him at home. I had been apprehensive upon this point as I went along. A single sentence put him in possession of the whole case, as well of my sufferings, as of the friendly service I had come to supplicate at his hands.

"This resolution calmed me, and I generously gave a gift to the girl who was still with me. To keep her from going back to those who had sent her, I noted down her address and half-promised to visit her later. I then got into the cab and quickly drove to M. de T——'s place. Luckily, he was home when I arrived. I had been worried about that on my way there. In one sentence, I gave him the complete picture of my situation, including my struggles and the favor I was asking him for."

"He was so astonished to learn that G—— M—— had been able to seduce Manon from me, that, not being aware that I had myself lent a hand to my own misfortune, he generously offered to assemble his friends, and evoke their aid for the deliverance of my mistress. I told him that such a proceeding might by its publicity be attended with danger to Manon and to me. 'Let us risk our lives,' said I, 'only as a last resource. My plan is of a more peaceful nature, and promising at least equal success.' He entered without a murmur into all that I proposed; so again stating that all I required was, that he should send for G—— M——, and contrive to keep him an hour or two from home, we at once set about our operations.

He was so shocked to find out that G—— M—— had managed to win Manon over from me, that, not realizing I was partly responsible for my own misfortune, he generously offered to gather his friends and get their help to rescue my mistress. I told him that such a public action could put both Manon and me at risk. “Let’s only put our lives on the line as a last resort,” I said. “My plan is more peaceful and likely to succeed just as well.” He agreed to everything I suggested without hesitation; so reiterating that all I needed was for him to call G—— M—— and keep him away from home for an hour or two, we got to work right away.

"We first of all considered what expedient we could make use of for keeping him out so long a time. I proposed that he should write a note dated from a cafe, begging of him to come there as soon as possible upon an affair of too urgent importance to admit of delay. 'I will watch,' added I, 'the moment he quits the house, and introduce myself without any difficulty, being only known to Manon, and my servant Marcel. You can at the same time tell G—— M——, that the important affair upon which you wished to see him was the immediate want of a sum of money; that you had just emptied your purse at play, and that you had played on, with continued bad luck, upon credit. He will require some time to take you to his father's house, where he keeps his money, and I shall have quite sufficient for the execution of my plan.'

"We first thought about how we could keep him out for such a long time. I suggested that he write a note from a café, asking him to come there as soon as possible about something too urgent to delay. 'I’ll keep an eye out,' I added, 'the moment he leaves the house, and I’ll introduce myself without any problem since I’m only known to Manon and my servant Marcel. At the same time, you can tell G—— M—— that the important matter you wanted to discuss was your urgent need for some money; that you just emptied your wallet at gambling and that you kept playing, racking up bad luck on credit. He’ll need some time to take you to his father's house, where he keeps his money, and that’ll give me enough time to carry out my plan.'”

"M. de T—— minutely adhered to these directions. I left him in a cafe, where he at once wrote his letter. I took my station close by Manon's house. I saw de T——'s messenger arrive, and G—— M—— come out the next moment, followed by a servant. Allowing him barely time to get out of the street, I advanced to my deceiver's door, and notwithstanding the anger I felt, I knocked with as much respect as at the portal of a church. Fortunately it was Marcel who opened for me. Although I had nothing to apprehend from the other servants, I asked him in a low voice if he could conduct me unseen into the room in which Manon was. He said that was easily done, by merely ascending the great staircase. 'Come then at once,' said I to him, 'and endeavour to prevent anyone from coming up while I am there.' I reached the apartment without any difficulty.

"M. de T—— carefully followed these instructions. I left him at a café, where he immediately wrote his letter. I positioned myself near Manon's house. I saw de T——'s messenger arrive, and then G—— M—— came out right after, followed by a servant. I gave him just enough time to leave the street before I approached my deceiver's door, and despite the anger I felt, I knocked with as much respect as if I were at the entrance of a church. Luckily, it was Marcel who opened the door for me. Although I didn't have to worry about the other servants, I quietly asked him if he could lead me into the room where Manon was without being seen. He said that could be easily done by simply going up the grand staircase. 'Come with me right away,' I said to him, 'and try to keep anyone from coming up while I'm there.' I got to the room without any trouble."

"Manon was reading. I had there an opportunity of admiring the singular character of this girl. Instead of being nervous or alarmed at my appearance, she scarcely betrayed a symptom of surprise, which few persons, however indifferent, could restrain, on seeing one whom they imagined to be far distant. 'Ah! it is you, my dear love,' said she, approaching to embrace me with her usual tenderness. 'Good heavens, how venturesome and foolhardy you are! Who could have expected to see you in this place!' Instead of embracing her in return, I repulsed her with indignation, and retreated two or three paces from her. This evidently disconcerted her. She remained immovable, and fixed her eyes on me, while she changed colour.

Manon was reading. I had a chance to admire the unique character of this girl. Instead of being nervous or alarmed by my presence, she barely showed any sign of surprise, which few people, no matter how indifferent, could hold back when seeing someone they thought was far away. "Ah! It's you, my dear love," she said, moving in to embrace me with her usual warmth. "Good heavens, how bold and reckless you are! Who would have expected to see you here?" Instead of returning her embrace, I pushed her away in anger and backed up two or three steps. This clearly unsettled her. She stood still, staring at me, while her color changed.

"I was in reality so delighted to behold her once more, that, with so much real cause for anger, I could hardly bring my lips to upbraid her. My heart, however, felt the cruel outrage she had inflicted upon me. I endeavoured to revive the recollection of it in my own mind, in order to excite my feelings, and put on a look of stern indignation. I remained silent for a few moments, when I remarked that she observed my agitation, and trembled: apparently the effect of her fears.

I was genuinely so happy to see her again that, despite having every reason to be angry, I could barely force myself to scold her. However, my heart felt the painful insult she had caused me. I tried to bring back the memory of it to stir up my emotions and put on a stern look of anger. I stayed silent for a few moments when I noticed that she was aware of my distress and was trembling, presumably out of fear.

"I could not longer endure this spectacle. 'Ah! Manon,' said I to her in the mildest tone, 'faithless and perjured Manon! How am I to complain of your conduct? I see you pale and trembling, and I am still so much alive to your slightest sufferings, that I am unwilling to add to them by my reproaches. But, Manon, I tell you that my heart is pierced with sorrow at your treatment of me—treatment that is seldom inflicted but with the purpose of destroying one's life. This is the third time, Manon; I have kept a correct account; it is impossible to forget that. It is now for you to consider what course you will adopt; for my afflicted heart is no longer capable of sustaining such shocks. I know and feel that it must give way, and it is at this moment ready to burst with grief. I can say no more,' added I, throwing myself into a chair; 'I have hardly strength to speak, or to support myself.'

"I couldn't bear this scene any longer. 'Oh! Manon,' I said to her gently, 'unfaithful and deceitful Manon! How can I express my feelings about what you've done? I see you pale and shaking, and I care so much about your pain that I don't want to add to it with my complaints. But, Manon, I need you to know that my heart is aching from how you've treated me—treatment that's usually meant to ruin someone's life. This is the third time, Manon; I've kept track, and it's hard to forget. Now it's up to you to decide what you want to do next because my broken heart can't take much more of this. I know deep down that it’s about to give in, and right now, it feels like it's going to burst from the sadness. I can't say anything more,' I added, sinking into a chair; 'I barely have the strength to talk or even stand up.'”

"She made me no reply; but when I was seated, she sank down upon her knees, and rested her head upon my lap, covering her face with her hands. I perceived in a moment that she was shedding floods of tears. Heavens! with what conflicting sensations was I at that instant agitated! 'Ah! Manon, Manon,' said I, sighing, 'it is too late to give me tears after the death-blow you have inflicted. You affect a sorrow which you cannot feel. The greatest of your misfortunes is no doubt my presence, which has been always an obstacle to your happiness. Open your eyes; look up and see who it is that is here; you will not throw away tears of tenderness upon an unhappy wretch whom you have betrayed and abandoned.'

She didn't respond, but when I sat down, she knelt beside me, resting her head on my lap and covering her face with her hands. I realized right away that she was crying uncontrollably. Wow! I was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions in that moment. "Ah! Manon, Manon," I sighed, "it's too late for tears after the blow you've dealt me. You're pretending to feel sorrow you really don't. Undoubtedly, the greatest misfortune in your life is my presence, which has always stood in the way of your happiness. Open your eyes; look up and see who's here; you won't waste tender tears on an unhappy wretch you’ve betrayed and left behind."

"She kissed my hands without changing her position. 'Inconstant Manon,' said I again, 'ungrateful and faithless girl, where now are all your promises and your vows? Capricious and cruel that you are! what has now become of the love that you protested for me this very day? Just Heavens,' added I, 'is it thus you permit a traitor to mock you, after having called you so solemnly to witness her vows! Recompense and reward then are for the perjured! Despair and neglect are the lot of fidelity and truth!'

"She kissed my hands without moving. 'Unreliable Manon,' I said again, 'ungrateful and unfaithful girl, where are all your promises and vows now? Capricious and cruel as you are! What happened to the love you swore to me just today? Just heavens,' I added, 'is this how you let a traitor mock you after calling you so seriously to witness her vows? So, it seems rewards are for the deceitful! Despair and neglect are the fate of those who are faithful and true!'"

"These words conveyed even to my own mind a sentiment so bitterly severe, that, in spite of myself, some tears escaped from me. Manon perceived this by the change in my voice. She at length spoke. 'I must have indeed done something most culpable,' said she, sobbing with grief, 'to have excited and annoyed you to this degree; but, I call Heaven to attest my utter unconsciousness of crime, and my innocence of all criminal intention!'

"These words struck me with such a harsh feeling that, despite myself, some tears slipped out. Manon noticed this from the change in my voice. Finally, she spoke. 'I must have really done something terrible,' she said, crying, 'to have upset and bothered you like this; but I swear to Heaven that I had no idea I did anything wrong and that I am innocent of any bad intentions!'"

"This speech struck me as so devoid of reason and of truth, that I could not restrain a lively feeling of anger. 'Horrible hypocrisy!' cried I; 'I see more plainly than ever that you are dishonest and treacherous. Now at length I learn your wretched disposition. Adieu, base creature,' said I, rising from my seat; 'I would prefer death a thousand times rather than continue to hold the slightest communication with you. May Heaven punish me, if I ever again waste upon you the smallest regard! Live on with your new lover—renounce all feelings of honour—detest me—your love is now a matter to me of utter insignificance!'

"This speech seemed completely lacking in reason and truth, that I couldn't hold back a strong feeling of anger. 'What horrible hypocrisy!' I exclaimed; 'I see more clearly than ever that you are dishonest and deceitful. Now I finally understand your terrible character. Goodbye, you despicable person,' I said, getting up from my seat; 'I would choose death a thousand times rather than keep the tiniest connection with you. May Heaven punish me if I ever again waste even a little care on you! Go on with your new lover—give up all sense of honor—hate me—your love is now completely insignificant to me!'

"Manon was so terrified by the violence of my anger, that, remaining on her knees by the chair from which I had just before risen, breathless and trembling, she fixed her eyes upon me. I advanced a little farther towards the door, but, unless I had lost the last spark of humanity, I could not continue longer unmoved by such a spectacle.

"Manon was so scared by the intensity of my anger that she stayed on her knees by the chair I had just gotten up from, breathless and shaking, and stared at me. I moved a little closer to the door, but unless I had completely lost my humanity, I couldn't remain unaffected by such a scene."

"So far, indeed, was I from this kind of stoical indifference, that, rushing at once into the very opposite extreme, I returned, or rather flew back to her without an instant's reflection. I lifted her in my arms; I gave her a thousand tender kisses; I implored her to pardon my ungovernable temper; I confessed that I was an absolute brute, and unworthy of being loved by such an angel.

"So far from being indifferent, I actually rushed to the complete opposite extreme. I returned, or rather flew back to her without a moment's thought. I lifted her in my arms, showered her with a thousand tender kisses, begged her to forgive my uncontrollable temper, and admitted that I was a total jerk, unworthy of being loved by such an angel."

"I made her sit down, and throwing myself, in my turn, upon my knees, I conjured her to listen to me in that attitude. Then I briefly expressed all that a submissive and impassioned lover could say most tender and respectful. I supplicated her pardon. She let her arms fall over my neck, as she said that it was she who stood in need of forgiveness, and begged of me in mercy to forget all the annoyances she had caused me, and that she began, with reason, to fear that I should not approve of what she had to say in her justification. 'Me!' said I interrupting her impatiently; 'I require no justification; I approve of all you have done. It is not for me to demand excuses for anything you do; I am but too happy, too contented, if my dear Manon will only leave me master of her affections! But,' continued I, remembering that it was the crisis of my fate, 'may I not, Manon, all-powerful Manon, you who wield at your pleasure my joys and sorrows, may I not be permitted, after having conciliated you by my submission and all the signs of repentance, to speak to you now of my misery and distress? May I now learn from your own lips what my destiny is to be, and whether you are resolved to sign my death-warrant, by spending even a single night with my rival?'

I had her sit down, and then I dropped to my knees and begged her to listen to me like this. I poured out everything a devoted and passionate lover could say, full of tenderness and respect. I asked for her forgiveness. She let her arms fall around my neck and said she was the one who needed forgiveness, pleading with me to forget all the trouble she had caused me. She started to worry that I wouldn’t approve of what she had to say in her defense. "Me!" I interrupted her, a bit impatiently. "I don’t need any justification; I approve of everything you’ve done. It’s not for me to ask for excuses for anything you do. I’m just so happy and content if my dear Manon will let me keep her love! But," I continued, remembering this was a turning point for me, "may I not, Manon, powerful Manon, you who control my joys and sorrows at will, may I not be allowed, after winning you over with my humility and all my signs of regret, to talk to you now about my misery and distress? Can I finally hear from your own lips what my fate will be, and whether you are determined to seal my doom by spending even one night with my rival?"

"She considered a moment before she replied. 'My good chevalier,' said she, resuming the most tranquil tone, 'if you had only at first explained yourself thus distinctly, you would have spared yourself a world of trouble, and prevented a scene that has really annoyed me. Since your distress is the result of jealousy, I could at first have cured that by offering to accompany you where you pleased. But I imagined it was caused by the letter which I was obliged to write in the presence of G—— M——, and of the girl whom we sent with it. I thought you might have construed that letter into a mockery; and have fancied that, by sending such a messenger, I meant to announce my abandonment of you for the sake of G—— M——. It was this idea that at once overwhelmed me with grief; for, innocent as I knew myself to be, I could not but allow that appearances were against me. However,' continued she, 'I will leave you to judge of my conduct, after I shall have explained the whole truth.'

"She paused for a moment before responding. 'My dear knight,' she said, returning to a calm tone, 'if you had just clearly explained yourself from the beginning, you would have saved yourself a lot of trouble and avoided a scene that has truly upset me. Since your distress comes from jealousy, I could have easily alleviated that by offering to go wherever you wanted. But I thought it stemmed from the letter I had to write in front of G—— M——, and the girl we sent with it. I worried you might think that letter was a joke and that by sending such a messenger, I was signaling my abandonment of you for G—— M——. That thought overwhelmed me with sadness; despite knowing I was innocent, I had to acknowledge that the situation looked bad for me. However,' she continued, 'I'll let you evaluate my actions after I've explained the whole truth.'

"She then told me all that had occurred to her after joining G—— M——, whom she found punctually awaiting her arrival. He had in fact received her in the most princely style. He showed her through all the apartments, which were fitted up in the neatest and most correct taste. He had counted out to her in her boudoir ten thousand francs, as well as a quantity of jewels, amongst which were the identical pearl necklace and bracelets which she had once before received as a present from his father. He then led her into a splendid room, which she had not before seen, and in which an exquisite collation was served; she was waited upon by the new servants, whom he had hired purposely for her, and whom he now desired to consider themselves as exclusively her attendants; the carriage and the horses were afterwards paraded, and he then proposed a game of cards, until supper should be announced.

"She then told me everything that happened to her after joining G—— M——, who was there waiting for her right on time. He welcomed her in a truly grand manner. He showed her around all the rooms, which were decorated in the neatest and most stylish way. He had counted out ten thousand francs for her in her boudoir, along with a bunch of jewels, including the exact pearl necklace and bracelets that she had previously received as a gift from his father. He then took her into a beautiful room she hadn’t seen before, where a delicious spread was laid out; she was attended to by the new staff he had hired just for her, and who he wanted to consider themselves as her personal attendants. After that, he showed off the carriage and the horses, and he suggested they play cards until dinner was ready."

"'I acknowledge,' continued Manon, 'that I was dazzled by all this magnificence. It struck me that it would be madness to sacrifice at once so many good things for the mere sake of carrying off the money and the jewels already in my possession; that it was a certain fortune made for both you and me, and that we might pass the remainder of our lives most agreeably and comfortably at the expense of G—— M——.

"I admit," Manon went on, "that I was overwhelmed by all this splendor. It seemed crazy to give up so many good things just to take the money and jewels I already had; that it was a sure fortune for both of us, and we could spend the rest of our lives quite happily and comfortably at G—— M——'s expense.

"'Instead of proposing the theatre, I thought it more prudent to sound his feelings with regard to you, in order to ascertain what facilities we should have for meeting in future, on the supposition that I could carry my project into effect. I found him of a most tractable disposition. He asked me how I felt towards you, and if I had not experienced some compunction at quitting you. I told him that you were so truly amiable, and had ever treated me with such undeviating kindness, that it was impossible I could hate you. He admitted that you were a man of merit, and expressed an ardent desire to gain your friendship.

"'Instead of suggesting the theater, I thought it was wiser to check how he felt about you to see what opportunities we might have to meet in the future, assuming I could make my plan happen. I found him to be very agreeable. He asked me how I felt about you and whether I had any regrets about leaving you. I told him that you were genuinely kind and had always treated me with unwavering kindness, so it would be impossible for me to hate you. He acknowledged that you were a man of worth and showed a strong desire to be your friend.

"'He was anxious to know how I thought you would take my elopement, particularly when you should learn that I was in his hands. I answered, that our love was of such long standing as to have had time to moderate a little; that, besides, you were not in very easy circumstances, and would probably not consider my departure as any severe misfortune, inasmuch as it would relieve you from a burden of no very insignificant nature. I added that, being perfectly convinced you would take the whole matter rationally, I had not hesitated to tell you that I had some business in Paris; but you had at once consented, and that having accompanied me yourself, you did not seem very uneasy when we separated.

"'He was eager to know how I thought you would react to my elopement, especially when you found out I was with him. I replied that our love had lasted long enough to have calmed down a bit; plus, you weren’t in a great situation and probably wouldn’t see my leaving as a terrible misfortune, since it would lift a significant burden from you. I also mentioned that I was completely sure you would handle the whole thing rationally, so I didn’t hesitate to tell you I had some business in Paris; you agreed right away, and since you chose to come with me, you didn’t seem too anxious when we parted.

"'If I thought,' said he to me, 'that he could bring himself to live on good terms with me, I should be too happy to make him a tender of my services and attentions.' I assured him that, from what I knew of your disposition, I had no doubt you would acknowledge his kindness in a congenial spirit: especially, I added, if he could assist you in your affairs, which had become embarrassed since your disagreement with your family. He interrupted me by declaring, that he would gladly render you any service in his power, and that if you were disposed to form a new attachment, he would introduce you to an extremely pretty woman, whom he had just given up for me.

"'If I thought,' he said to me, 'that he could manage to be on good terms with me, I would be thrilled to offer him my support and attention.' I assured him that, based on what I knew about your character, I was sure you would appreciate his kindness in a friendly way: especially, I added, if he could help you with your situation, which had become complicated since your fallout with your family. He interrupted me, saying that he would happily help you in any way he could, and that if you were interested in finding a new partner, he could introduce you to a really attractive woman he had just broken up with for me.'

"'I approved of all he said,' she added, 'for fear of exciting any suspicions; and being more and more satisfied of the feasibility of my scheme, I only longed for an opportunity of letting you into it, lest you should be alarmed at my not keeping my appointment. With this view I suggested the idea of sending this young lady to you, in order to have an opportunity of writing; I was obliged to have recourse to this plan, because I could not see a chance of his leaving me to myself for a moment.'

"I agreed with everything he said," she continued, "to avoid raising any suspicions; and since I was increasingly confident that my plan could work, I just wanted an opportunity to fill you in, so you wouldn't worry about me not showing up. To achieve this, I suggested sending this young woman to you so that I could write to you. I had to use this approach because I couldn't find any moment alone."

"'He was greatly amused with my proposition; he called his valet, and asking him whether he could immediately find his late mistress, he dispatched him at once in search of her. He imagined that she would have to go to Chaillot to meet you, but I told him that, when we parted, I promised to meet you again at the theatre, or that, if anything should prevent me from going there, you were to wait for me in a coach at the end of the street of St. Andre; that consequently it would be best to send your new love there, if it were only to save you from the misery of suspense during the whole night. I said it would be also necessary to write you a line of explanation, without which you would probably be puzzled by the whole transaction. He consented; but I was obliged to write in his presence; and I took especial care not to explain matters too palpably in my letter.

"He found my suggestion really amusing; he called his servant and asked him if he could immediately find his former lover, then sent him off right away to look for her. He thought she would have to go to Chaillot to meet you, but I told him that when we parted, I had promised to meet you again at the theater, or that if something kept me from going there, you were to wait for me in a carriage at the end of St. Andre Street; so it would be best to send your new love there, just to save you from the agony of wondering all night. I also mentioned that it was necessary to write you a note explaining the situation, or else you might be confused by the whole thing. He agreed, but I had to write it while he watched, and I made sure not to explain things too clearly in my letter."

"'This is the history,' said Manon, 'of the entire affair. I conceal nothing from you, of either my conduct or my intentions. The girl arrived; I thought her handsome; and as I doubted not that you would be mortified by my absence, I did most sincerely hope that she would be able to dissipate something of your ennui: for it is the fidelity of the heart alone that I value. I should have been too delighted to have sent Marcel, but I could not for a single instant find an opportunity of telling him what I wished to communicate to you.' She finished her story by describing the embarrassment into which M. de T——'s letter had thrown G—— M——; 'he hesitated,' said she, 'about leaving, and assured me that he should not be long absent; and it is on this account that I am uneasy at seeing you here, and that I betrayed, at your appearance, some slight feeling of surprise.'

"'This is the story,' Manon said, 'of the whole situation. I'm not hiding anything from you, regarding either my actions or my intentions. The girl showed up; I found her attractive; and since I knew you would be disappointed by my absence, I really hoped she could help ease some of your boredom: because it's only the loyalty of the heart that matters to me. I would have loved to send Marcel, but I couldn’t find a moment to tell him what I wanted to say to you.' She ended her tale by explaining how M. de T——'s letter had embarrassed G—— M——; 'he hesitated,' she said, 'about leaving, and assured me that he wouldn't be gone long; and that’s why I feel uneasy about seeing you here, and why I showed a bit of surprise when you arrived.'"

"I listened to her with great patience. There were certainly parts of her recital sufficiently cruel and mortifying; for the intention, at least, of the infidelity was so obvious, that she had not even taken the trouble to disguise it. She could never have imagined that G—— M—— meant to venerate her as a vestal. She must therefore clearly have made up her mind to pass at least one night with him. What an avowal for a lover's ears! However, I considered myself as partly the cause of her guilt, by having been the first to let her know G—— M——'s sentiments towards her, and by the silly readiness with which I entered into this rash project. Besides, by a natural bent of my mind, peculiar I believe to myself, I was duped by the ingenuousness of her story—by that open and winning manner with which she related even the circumstances most calculated to annoy me. 'There is nothing of wanton vice,' said I to myself, 'in her transgressions; she is volatile and imprudent, but she is sincere and affectionate.' My love alone rendered me blind to all her faults. I was enchanted at the prospect of rescuing her that very night from my rival. I said to her: 'With whom do you mean to pass the night?' She was evidently disconcerted by the question, and answered me in an embarrassed manner with BUTS and IFS.

I listened to her with a lot of patience. There were definitely parts of her story that were cruel and humiliating; the intent behind her cheating was so clear that she hadn't even bothered to hide it. She could never have thought that G—— M—— planned to treat her like a saint. So, she must have definitely decided to spend at least one night with him. What a confession for a lover to hear! Still, I considered myself partly responsible for her wrongdoing since I was the one who first mentioned G—— M——'s feelings for her and was foolishly eager to support her in this reckless plan. Additionally, I have this natural tendency, which I think is unique to me, to be taken in by her straightforwardness—by the charming way she recounted even the details that were most likely to upset me. “There’s nothing wicked in her actions,” I told myself, “she's flighty and imprudent, but she's sincere and loving.” My love alone blinded me to all her faults. I was thrilled at the chance to save her that very night from my rival. I asked her, “Who do you plan to spend the night with?” She looked clearly caught off guard by the question and answered me with a bunch of “buts” and “ifs.”

"I felt for her, and interrupted her by saying that I at once expected her to accompany me.

"I felt for her and interrupted her by saying that I expected her to come with me right away."

"'Nothing can give me more pleasure,' said she; 'but you don't approve then of my project?'

"'Nothing would make me happier,' she said; 'but you don't support my plan, do you?'"

"'Is it not enough,' replied I, 'that I approve of all that you have, up to this moment, done?'

"'Isn't it enough,' I replied, 'that I approve of everything you've done up to this point?'"

"'What,' said she, 'are we not even to take the ten thousand francs with us? Why, he gave me the money; it is mine.'

"'What,' she said, 'are we not even taking the ten thousand francs with us? He gave me the money; it's mine.'"

"I advised her to leave everything, and let us think only of escaping for although I had been hardly half an hour with her, I began to dread the return of G—— M——. However, she so earnestly urged me to consent to our going out with something in our pockets, that I thought myself bound to make her, on my part, some concession, in return for all she yielded to me.

"I suggested that she leave everything behind and focus on escaping, because even though I had only been with her for half an hour, I started to worry about G—— M—— coming back. However, she insisted so strongly that we should take something with us that I felt I had to compromise and give her something in return for all she was willing to do for me."

"While we were getting ready for our departure, I heard someone knock at the street door. I felt convinced that it must be G—— M——; and in the heat of the moment, I told Manon, that as sure as he appeared I would take his life. In truth, I felt that I was not sufficiently recovered from my late excitement to be able to restrain my fury if I met him. Marcel put an end to my uneasiness, by handing me a letter which he had received for me at the door; it was from M. de T——.

"While we were getting ready to leave, I heard someone knock at the front door. I was sure it had to be G—— M——; and in that moment, I told Manon that if he showed up, I would take his life. Honestly, I felt like I wasn't calm enough after my recent excitement to control my anger if I encountered him. Marcel eased my mind by giving me a letter he had received for me at the door; it was from M. de T——."

"He told me that, as G—— M—— had gone to his father's house for the money which he wanted, he had taken advantage of his absence to communicate to me an amusing idea that had just come into his head; that it appeared to him, I could not possibly take a more agreeable revenge upon my rival, than by eating his supper, and spending the night in the very bed which he had hoped to share with my mistress; all this seemed to him easy enough, if I could only find two or three men upon whom I could depend, of courage sufficient to stop him in the street, and detain him in custody until next morning; that he would undertake to keep him occupied for another hour at least, under some pretext, which he could devise before G—— M——'s return.

"He told me that while G—— M—— had gone to his father's house to get the money he needed, he saw this as the perfect chance to share an amusing idea that just popped into his head. He thought the best way for me to get back at my rival would be to eat his dinner and spend the night in the very bed he hoped to share with my mistress. He figured this would be pretty easy, as long as I could find two or three reliable guys with enough guts to stop him in the street and hold him until the next morning. He promised he would keep G—— M—— busy for at least another hour under some made-up reason he could think of before G—— M—— returned."

"I showed the note to Manon; I told her at the same time of the manner in which I had procured the interview with her. My scheme, as well as the new one of M. de T——'s, delighted her: we laughed heartily at it for some minutes; but when I treated it as a mere joke, I was surprised at her insisting seriously upon it, as a thing perfectly practicable, and too delightful to be neglected. In vain I enquired where she thought I could possibly find, on a sudden, men fit for such an adventure? and on whom I could rely for keeping G—— M—— in strict custody? She said that I should at least try, as M. de T—— ensured us yet a full hour; and as to my other objections, she said that I was playing the tyrant, and did not show the slightest indulgence to her fancies. She said that it was impossible there could be a more enchanting project. 'You will have his place at supper; you will sleep in his bed; and tomorrow, as early as you like, you can walk off with both his mistress and his money. You may thus, at one blow, be amply revenged upon father and son.'

"I showed the note to Manon and told her how I got the chance to meet with her. Both my plan and M. de T——'s new idea thrilled her; we laughed heartily about it for a few minutes. But when I downplayed it as just a joke, I was surprised by her insistence that it was completely doable and too exciting to ignore. I asked where she thought I could possibly find suitable people for such an adventure on short notice, and who I could trust to keep G—— M—— under strict control. She insisted I should at least give it a try since M. de T—— was giving us a whole hour, and as for my other objections, she said I was being a tyrant and showing no tolerance for her dreams. She claimed it was impossible to have a more enchanting plan. 'You will take his seat at dinner, you will sleep in his bed, and tomorrow morning, whenever you want, you can leave with both his mistress and his money. In one stroke, you can get back at both father and son.'"

"I yielded to her entreaties, in spite of the secret misgivings of my own mind, which seemed to forebode the unhappy catastrophe that afterwards befell me. I went out with the intention of asking two or three guardsmen, with whom Lescaut had made me acquainted, to undertake the arrest of G—— M——. I found only one of them at home, but he was a fellow ripe for any adventure; and he no sooner heard our plan, than he assured me of certain success: all he required were six pistoles, to reward the three private soldiers whom he determined to employ in the business. I begged of him to lose no time. He got them together in less than a quarter of an hour. I waited at his lodgings till he returned with them, and then conducted him to the corner of a street through which I knew G—— M—— must pass in going back to Manon's house. I requested him not to treat G—— M—— roughly, but to keep him confined, and so strictly watched, until seven o'clock next morning, that I might be free from all apprehension of his escape. He told me his intention was to bring him a prisoner to his own room, and make him undress and sleep in his bed, while he and his gallant comrades should spend the night in drinking and playing.

"I gave in to her pleas, even though I had my own doubts that seemed to predict the unhappy outcome that would soon follow. I went out planning to ask a couple of guardsmen, whom Lescaut had introduced me to, to help arrest G—— M——. I could only find one of them at home, but he was up for any adventure; as soon as he heard our plan, he assured me we would definitely succeed: all he needed was six pistoles to pay the three private soldiers he planned to use for the job. I urged him to act quickly. He gathered them in less than fifteen minutes. I waited at his place until he got back, and then I took him to a corner of the street where I knew G—— M—— would have to pass on his way back to Manon's house. I asked him not to be harsh with G—— M—— but to keep him confined and closely watched until seven o'clock the next morning, so I wouldn't have to worry about him escaping. He told me his plan was to bring G—— M—— to his own room, make him change into his nightclothes, and sleep in his bed while he and his friends spent the night drinking and playing games."

"I remained with them until we saw G—— M—— returning homewards; and I then withdrew a few steps into a dark recess in the street, to enjoy so entertaining and extraordinary a scene. The officer challenged him with a pistol to his breast, and then told him, in a civil tone, that he did not want either his money or his life; but that if he hesitated to follow him, or if he gave the slightest alarm, he would blow his brains out. G—— M——, seeing that his assailant was supported by three soldiers, and perhaps not uninfluenced by a dread of the pistol, yielded without further resistance. I saw him led away like a lamb."

"I stayed with them until we saw G—— M—— heading home, and then I stepped back a bit into a dark nook in the street to take in such an entertaining and unusual scene. The officer pointed a pistol at him and then calmly told him he didn’t want his money or his life; however, if he hesitated to follow or made any noise, he would blow his brains out. G—— M——, realizing his attacker had three soldiers with him and probably scared by the pistol, gave in without putting up any more of a fight. I watched him being led away like a lamb."




X


What lost a world, and bade a hero fly?
The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye.
Yet be the soft triumvir's fault forgiven,
By this, how many lose—not earth—but heaven!
Consign their souls to man's eternal foe,
And seal their own, to spare some wanton's, woe!
         BYRON.

What caused a world to be lost and made a hero flee?
The frightened tear in Cleopatra's eye.
Yet let the soft triumph of the man be forgiven,
By this, how many lose—not just earth—but heaven!
Give their souls to mankind's eternal enemy,
And seal their own, to save some stranger's sorrow!
         BYRON.


I soon returned to Manon; and to prevent the servants from having any suspicion, I told her in their hearing, that she need not expect M. G—— M—— to supper; that he was most reluctantly occupied with business which detained him, and that he had commissioned me to come and make his excuses, and to fill his place at the supper table; which, in the company of so beautiful a lady, I could not but consider a very high honour. She seconded me with her usual adroitness. We sat down to supper. I put on the most serious air I could assume, while the servants were in the room, and at length having got rid of them, we passed, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable evening of my life. I gave Marcel orders to find a hackney-coach, and engage it to be at the gate on the following morning a little before six o'clock. I pretended to take leave of Manon about midnight, but easily gaining admission again, through Marcel, I proceeded to occupy G—— M——'s bed, as I had filled his place at the supper table.

I soon went back to Manon, and to keep the servants from getting suspicious, I told her where they could overhear that she shouldn’t expect M. G—— M—— for dinner. I said he was tied up with work he couldn’t avoid and had sent me to apologize and take his spot at the dinner table, which I thought was quite an honor, especially in the company of such a beautiful lady. She backed me up with her usual charm. We sat down to dinner. I put on the most serious expression I could while the servants were around, and once they were finally gone, we had by far the best evening of my life. I told Marcel to find a cab and book it to be at the gate the next morning a little before six o’clock. I pretended to say goodbye to Manon around midnight, but I easily got back in through Marcel and went to sleep in G—— M——'s bed, just like I had taken his place at the dinner table.

"In the meantime our evil genius was at work for our destruction. We were like children enjoying the success of our silly scheme, while the sword hung suspended over our heads. The thread which upheld it was just about to break; but the better to understand all the circumstances of our ruin, it is necessary to know the immediate cause.

"In the meantime, our villain was plotting our downfall. We were like kids celebrating the success of our ridiculous plan, unaware that danger was looming over us. The thread that held it all together was about to snap; but to fully grasp the details of our demise, we need to understand the immediate cause."

"G—— M—— was followed by a servant, when he was stopped by my friend the guardsman. Alarmed by what he saw, this fellow retraced his steps, and the first thing he did was to go and inform old G—— M—— of what had just happened.

"G—— M—— was followed by a servant when my friend the guardsman stopped him. Alarmed by what he saw, this guy turned back, and the first thing he did was go and tell old G—— M—— what had just happened."

"Such a piece of news, of course, excited him greatly. This was his only son; and considering the old gentleman's advanced age, he was extremely active and ardent. He first enquired of the servant what his son had been doing that afternoon; whether he had had any quarrel on his own account, or interfered in any other; whether he had been in any suspicious house. The lackey, who fancied his master in imminent danger, and thought he ought not to have any reserve in such an emergency, disclosed at once all that he knew of his connection with Manon, and of the expense he had gone to on her account; the manner in which he had passed the afternoon with her until about nine o'clock, the circumstance of his leaving her, and the outrage he encountered on his return. This was enough to convince him that his son's affair was a love quarrel. Although it was then at least half-past ten at night, he determined at once to call on the lieutenant of police. He begged of him to issue immediate orders to all the detachments that were out on duty, and he himself, taking some men with him, hastened to the street where his son had been stopped: he visited every place where he thought he might have a chance of finding him; and not being able to discover the slightest trace of him, he went off to the house of his mistress, to which he thought he probably might by this time have returned.

Such news, of course, excited him a lot. This was his only son, and considering the old man's age, he was still very active and passionate. He first asked the servant what his son had been doing that afternoon; whether he had gotten into any fights, or interfered in someone else's, or if he had been in any suspicious places. The servant, who believed his master was in serious danger and felt he should be completely honest in such a situation, immediately revealed everything he knew about his connection with Manon, and about the money he spent on her; how he had spent the afternoon with her until around nine o'clock, the details of him leaving her, and the trouble he ran into on his way back. This was enough to convince him that his son's problem was related to a romantic quarrel. Even though it was already past ten at night, he decided right away to contact the police lieutenant. He asked him to issue urgent orders to all the units on duty, and he himself, taking some men with him, rushed to the street where his son had been stopped. He checked every place where he thought he might find him; and after not finding any trace of him, he went to his girlfriend's house, thinking he might have returned there by now.

"I was stepping into bed when he arrived. The door of the chamber being closed, I did not hear the knock at the gate, but he rushed into the house, accompanied by two archers of the guard, and after fruitless enquiries of the servants about his son, he resolved to try whether he could get any information from their mistress. He came up to the apartment, still accompanied by the guard. We were just on the point of lying down when he burst open the door, and electrified us by his appearance. 'Heavens!' said I to Manon, 'it is old G—— M——.' I attempted to get possession of my sword; but it was fortunately entangled in my belt. The archers, who saw my object, advanced to lay hold of me. Stript to my shirt, I could, of course, offer no resistance, and they speedily deprived me of all means of defence.

I was about to get into bed when he arrived. The bedroom door was closed, so I didn’t hear the knock at the gate, but he rushed into the house with two guards. After asking the servants about his son with no luck, he decided to see if he could get any information from their mistress. He came up to the room with the guards still with him. We were just about to lie down when he burst through the door and shocked us with his presence. “Heavens!” I said to Manon, “it’s old G—— M——.” I tried to grab my sword, but thankfully it was tangled in my belt. The guards saw what I was trying to do and moved to seize me. Wearing only my shirt, I obviously couldn’t fight back, and they quickly took away all my means of defense.

"G—— M——, although a good deal embarrassed by the whole scene, soon recognised me; and Manon still more easily. 'Is this a dream?' said he, in the most serious tone—'do I not see before me the Chevalier des Grieux and Manon Lescaut?' I was so overcome with shame and disappointment, that I could make him no reply. He appeared for some minutes revolving different thoughts in his mind; and as if they had suddenly excited his anger, he exclaimed, addressing himself to me: 'Wretch! I am confident that you have murdered my son!'

"G—— M——, though quite embarrassed by the whole situation, quickly recognized me; and Manon recognized me even more easily. 'Is this a dream?' he said in the most serious tone—'am I really seeing the Chevalier des Grieux and Manon Lescaut?' I was so filled with shame and disappointment that I couldn't respond. He seemed to spend a few minutes thinking about different things, and as if a sudden thought ignited his anger, he shouted at me: 'You scoundrel! I'm sure you’ve killed my son!'"

"I felt indignant at so insulting a charge. 'You hoary and lecherous villain!' I exclaimed, 'if I had been inclined to kill any of your worthless family, it is with you I should most assuredly have commenced.'

"I felt angry at such an insulting accusation. 'You old, lecherous scoundrel!' I shouted, 'if I had wanted to kill anyone in your worthless family, it would have definitely started with you.'"

"'Hold him fast,' cried he to the archers; 'he must give me some tidings of my son; I shall have him hanged tomorrow, if he does not presently let me know how he has disposed of him.'

"'Hold him tight,' he shouted to the archers; 'he needs to tell me something about my son; I'll have him hanged tomorrow if he doesn't let me know right away what he's done with him.'"

"'You will have me hanged,' said I, 'will you? Infamous scoundrel! it is for such as you that the gibbet is erected. Know that the blood which flows in my veins is noble, and purer in every sense than yours. Yes,' I added, 'I do know what has happened to your son; and if you irritate me further, I will have him strangled before morning; and I promise you the consolation of meeting in your own person the same fate, after he is disposed of.'

"'You plan to hang me,' I said, 'don't you? You vile scoundrel! It's people like you who deserve the gallows. Just know that the blood in my veins is noble and cleaner in every way than yours. Yes,' I continued, 'I know what happened to your son; and if you push my buttons any more, I will have him killed by morning; and I guarantee you’ll find comfort in facing the same fate yourself after he's taken care of.'"

"I was imprudent in acknowledging that I knew where his son was, but excess of anger made me commit this indiscretion. He immediately called in five or six other archers, who were waiting at the gate, and ordered them to take all the servants into custody. 'Ah! ah! Chevalier,' said he, in a tone of sardonic raillery,—'so you do know where my son is, and you will have him strangled, you say? We will try to set that matter to rights.'

"I was reckless in admitting that I knew where his son was, but my anger got the better of me and led to this mistake. He immediately called in five or six other archers who were waiting at the gate and ordered them to arrest all the servants. 'Ah! ah! Knight,' he said with a sarcastic tone, 'so you do know where my son is, and you plan to have him killed, do you? We’ll see if we can sort this out.'"

"I now saw the folly I had committed.

I now realized the mistake I had made.

"He approached Manon, who was sitting upon the bed, bathed in a flood of tears. He said something, with the most cruel irony, of the despotic power she wielded over old and young, father and son—her edifying dominion over her empire. This superannuated monster of incontinence actually attempted to take liberties with her.

He went over to Manon, who was sitting on the bed, overcome with tears. He said something, with the cruelest irony, about the power she held over everyone, young and old, father and son—her impressive control over her domain. This old monster of instability actually tried to take advantage of her.

"'Take care,' exclaimed I, 'how you lay a finger upon her!—neither divine nor human law will be able, should your folly arouse it, to shield you from my vengeance!'

"'Be careful,' I shouted, 'how you touch her!—neither divine nor human law will protect you from my wrath if your foolishness provokes it!'"

"He quitted the room, desiring the archers to make us dress as quickly as possible.

He left the room, asking the archers to help us get dressed as quickly as possible.

"I know not what were his intentions at that moment with regard to us; we might perhaps have regained our liberty if we had told him where his son was. As I dressed, I considered whether this would not be the wisest course. But if, on quitting the room, such had been the disposition of his mind, it was very different when he returned. He had first gone to question Manon's servants, who were in the custody of the guard. From those who had been expressly hired for her service by his son, he could learn nothing; but when he found that Marcel had been previously our servant, he determined to extract some information from him, by means of intimidation, threats, or bribes.

"I don’t know what his intentions were at that moment regarding us; we might have gotten our freedom back if we had told him where his son was. As I got dressed, I thought about whether that would be the smartest choice. But if that had been his state of mind when leaving the room, it was very different when he came back. He had first gone to question Manon's servants, who were being held by the guard. From those who had been specifically hired to serve her by his son, he couldn't find out anything; but when he discovered that Marcel had previously been our servant, he decided to get some information from him, using intimidation, threats, or bribes."

"This lad was faithful, but weak and unsophisticated. The remembrance of what he had done at the penitentiary for Manon's release, joined to the terror with which G—— M—— now inspired him, so subdued his mind, that he thought they were about leading him to the gallows, or the rack. He promised that, if they would spare his life, he would disclose everything he knew. This speech made G—— M—— imagine that there was something more serious in the affair than he had before supposed; he not only gave Marcel a promise of his life, but a handsome reward in hand for his intended confession.

This young man was loyal, but naive and inexperienced. The memory of what he had done in the prison to secure Manon's release, combined with the fear that G—— M—— now instilled in him, completely overwhelmed him. He convinced himself they were taking him to face the gallows or torture. He promised that if they spared his life, he would reveal everything he knew. This statement led G—— M—— to believe there was more to the situation than he had previously thought; he not only guaranteed Marcel his life but also offered him a generous reward for his forthcoming confession.

"The booby then told him the leading features of our plot, of which we had made no secret before him, as he was himself to have borne a part in it. True, he knew nothing of the alterations we had made at Paris in our original design; but he had been informed, before quitting Chaillot, of our projected adventure, and of the part he was to perform. He therefore told him that the object was to make a dupe of his son; and that Manon was to receive, if she had not already received, ten thousand francs, which, according to our project, would be effectually lost to G—— M——, his heirs and assigns for ever.

"The booby then shared the main details of our plan, which we had not hidden from him since he was supposed to be involved. True, he didn't know about the changes we made in Paris to our original idea; however, he had been informed before leaving Chaillot about our planned adventure and the role he was to play. He therefore explained that the goal was to trick his son, and that Manon was supposed to receive, if she hadn't already, ten thousand francs, which, according to our plan, would effectively be lost to G—— M—— and his heirs forever."

"Having acquired this information, the old gentleman hastened back in a rage to the apartment. Without uttering a word, he passed into the boudoir, where he easily put his hand upon the money and the jewels. He then accosted us, bursting with rage; and holding up what he was pleased to call our plunder, he loaded us with the most indignant reproaches. He placed close to Manon's eye the pearl necklace and bracelets. 'Do you recognise them?' said he, in a tone of mockery; 'it is not, perhaps, the first time you may have seen them. The identical pearls, by my faith! They were selected by your own exquisite taste! The poor innocents!' added he; 'they really are most amiable creatures, both one and the other; but they are perhaps a little too much inclined to roguery.'

"After getting this information, the old man rushed back to the apartment in a fury. Without saying a word, he went into the boudoir, where he easily found the money and jewels. He then confronted us, bursting with anger, and holding up what he called our loot, he showered us with the most furious accusations. He placed the pearl necklace and bracelets right next to Manon's eye. 'Do you recognize them?' he said mockingly; 'this isn't the first time you've seen them, is it? The very same pearls, I swear! They were picked out by your own exquisite taste! The poor innocents!' he added; 'they're really lovely people, both of them; but they might be just a little too prone to mischief.'"

"I could hardly contain my indignation at this speech. I would have given for one moment's liberty—Heavens! what would I not have given? At length, I suppressed my feelings sufficiently to say in a tone of moderation, which was but the refinement of rage: 'Put an end, sir, to this insolent mockery! What is your object? What do you purpose doing with us?'

"I could barely hold back my anger at this speech. I would have given anything for just one moment of freedom—oh my! What wouldn’t I have given? Finally, I managed to control my emotions enough to speak in a calm tone that was really just a cover for my fury: 'Please stop this arrogant mockery! What is your goal? What do you plan to do with us?'"

"'M. Chevalier,' he answered, 'my object is to see you quietly lodged in the prison of Le Chatelet. Tomorrow will bring daylight with it, and we shall then be able to take a clearer view of matters; and I hope you will at last do me the favour to let me know where my son is.'

"'Mr. Chevalier,' he replied, 'my goal is to get you settled quietly into the Le Chatelet prison. Tomorrow will bring some light, and then we can assess the situation more clearly; and I hope you will finally do me the favor of telling me where my son is.'"

"It did not require much consideration to feel convinced that our incarceration in Le Chatelet would be a serious calamity. I foresaw all the dangers that would ensue. In spite of my pride, I plainly saw the necessity of bending before my fate, and conciliating my most implacable enemy by submission. I begged of him, in the quietest manner, to listen to me. 'I wish to do myself but common justice, sir,' said I to him; 'I admit that my youth has led me into egregious follies; and that you have had fair reason to complain: but if you have ever felt the resistless power of love, if you can enter into the sufferings of an unhappy young man, from whom all that he most loved was ravished, you may think me perhaps not so culpable in seeking the gratification of an innocent revenge; or at least, you may consider me sufficiently punished, by the exposure and degradation I have just now endured. Neither pains nor imprisonment will be requisite to make me tell you where your son now is. He is in perfect safety. It was never my intention to injure him, nor to give you just cause for offence. I am ready to let you know the place where he is safely passing the night, if, in return, you will set us at liberty.'

"It didn't take much thought to realize that being locked up in Le Chatelet would be a serious disaster. I could see all the dangers that would follow. Despite my pride, I clearly recognized the need to submit to my fate and try to appease my most unforgiving enemy. I quietly asked him to listen to me. 'I just want to be fair to myself, sir,' I said to him; 'I acknowledge that my youth has led me into serious mistakes and that you have every reason to be upset. But if you've ever experienced the overpowering force of love, if you can understand the pain of an unhappy young man who has lost everything he cherished, you might think that I'm not so wrong for seeking a bit of innocent revenge; or at least, you might feel that I've been punished enough by the exposure and humiliation I've just gone through. Neither pain nor imprisonment will be necessary to make me tell you where your son is now. He is completely safe. I never intended to harm him or give you any valid reason to be angry. I'm willing to let you know where he is safely spending the night if, in return, you will set us free.'”

"The old tiger, far from being softened by my prayer, turned his back upon me and laughed. A few words escaped him, which showed that he perfectly well knew our whole plan from the commencement. As for his son, the brute said that he would easily find him, since I had not assassinated him. 'Conduct them to the Petit-Chatelet,' said he to the archers; 'and take especial care that the chevalier does not escape you: he is a scamp that once before escaped from St. Lazare.'

"The old tiger, instead of being swayed by my plea, just turned away and laughed. A few words slipped out of him that made it clear he knew our entire plan from the start. Regarding his son, the brute said he would easily track him down since I hadn't killed him. 'Take them to the Petit-Chatelet,' he told the archers; 'and make sure the knight doesn't get away: he's a troublemaker who escaped from St. Lazare once before.'"

"He went out, and left me in a condition that you may picture to yourself. 'O Heavens!' cried I to myself, 'I receive with humble submission all your visitations; but that a wretched scoundrel should thus have the power to tyrannise over me! this it is that plunges me into the depths of despair!' The archers begged that we would not detain them any longer. They had a coach at the door. 'Come, my dear angel,' said I to Manon, as we went down, 'come, let us submit to our destiny in all its rigour: it may one day please Heaven to render us more happy.'

He left, leaving me in a state you can imagine. "Oh my God!" I thought to myself, "I accept all your trials with humility; but for a despicable person to have the power to control me like this! That truly sends me into the depths of despair!" The archers asked us not to keep them any longer. They had a carriage waiting outside. "Come, my dear angel," I said to Manon as we headed down, "let's accept our fate in all its harshness: maybe one day, God will allow us to be happier."

"We went in the same coach. I supported her in my arms. I had not heard her utter a single word since G—— M——'s first appearance: but now, finding herself alone with me, she addressed me in the tenderest manner, and accused herself of being the cause of all my troubles. I assured her that I never could complain, while she continued to love me. 'It is not I that have reason to complain,' I added; 'imprisonment for a few months has no terrors for me, and I would infinitely prefer Le Chatelet to St. Lazare; but it is for you, my dearest soul, that my heart bleeds. What a lot for such an angel! How can you, gracious Heaven! subject to such rigour the most perfect work of your own hands? Why are we not both of us born with qualities conformable to our wretched condition? We are endowed with spirit, with taste, with feeling; while the vilest of God's creatures—brutes, alone worthy of our unhappy fate, are revelling in all the favours of fortune.'

"We traveled in the same carriage. I held her in my arms. I hadn’t heard her say a single word since G—— M——'s first appearance, but now, finding herself alone with me, she spoke to me in the gentlest way and blamed herself for being the reason for all my troubles. I assured her that I could never complain as long as she continued to love me. 'I have no reason to complain,' I added; 'being imprisoned for a few months doesn’t scare me, and I would much rather be at Le Chatelet than St. Lazare; but it’s for you, my dearest soul, that my heart aches. What a burden for such an angel! How can you, gracious Heaven! subject the most perfect creation of your own hands to such harshness? Why aren’t we both born with qualities that fit our miserable circumstances? We are blessed with spirit, taste, and feeling, while the lowest of God’s creatures—brutes, who deserve our unfortunate fate—are indulging in all the favors of fortune.'

"These feelings filled me with grief; but it was bliss compared with my prospects for the future. My fear, on account of Manon, knew no bounds. She had already been an inmate of the Magdalen; and even if she had left it by fair means, I knew that a relapse of this nature would be attended with disastrous consequences. I wished to let her know my fears: I was apprehensive of exciting hers. I trembled for her, without daring to put her on her guard against the danger; and I embraced her tenderly, to satisfy her, at least, of my love, which was almost the only sentiment to which I dared to give expression. 'Manon,' said I, 'tell me sincerely, will you ever cease to love me?'

"These feelings overwhelmed me with sadness, but they felt like happiness compared to what I feared about the future. My anxiety for Manon was endless. She had already spent time at the Magdalen, and even if she had left there for good, I knew that slipping back would have serious consequences. I wanted to share my fears with her, but I was worried about scaring her. I was terrified for her without being able to warn her about the danger, so I held her close to reassure her of my love, which was nearly the only emotion I felt safe expressing. 'Manon,' I said, 'please tell me honestly, will you ever stop loving me?'"

"She answered, that it made her unhappy to think that I could doubt it.

"She replied that it made her unhappy to think I could doubt it."

"'Very well,' replied I, 'I do so no longer; and with this conviction, I may well defy all my enemies. Through the influence of my family, I can ensure my own liberation from the Chatelet; and my life will be of little use, and of short duration, if I do not succeed in rescuing you.'

"'Alright,' I replied, 'I won't do that anymore; and with this belief, I can confidently challenge all my enemies. Thanks to my family's influence, I can secure my freedom from the Chatelet; and my life won't mean much, and won't last long, if I don't succeed in saving you.'"

"We arrived at the prison, where they put us into separate cells. This blow was the less severe, because I was prepared for it. I recommended Manon to the attention of the porter, telling him that I was a person of some distinction, and promising him a considerable recompense. I embraced my dearest mistress before we parted; I implored her not to distress herself too much, and to fear nothing while I lived. I had money with me: I gave her some; and I paid the porter, out of what remained, the amount of a month's expenses for both of us in, advance. This had an excellent effect, for I found myself placed in an apartment comfortably furnished, and they assured me that Manon was in one equally good.

"We arrived at the prison, where they put us in separate cells. This blow was less severe because I was prepared for it. I brought Manon to the porter’s attention, telling him that I was someone of some significance and promising him a good reward. I embraced my beloved mistress before we parted; I urged her not to worry too much and not to be afraid as long as I was alive. I had money with me: I gave her some and paid the porter, with what was left, for a month's expenses for both of us in advance. This had a great effect, as I found myself placed in a comfortably furnished room, and they assured me that Manon was in one just as nice."

"I immediately set about devising the means of procuring my liberty. There certainly had been nothing actually criminal in my conduct; and supposing even that our felonious intention was established by the evidence of Marcel, I knew that criminal intentions alone were not punishable. I resolved to write immediately to my father, and beg of him to come himself to Paris. I felt much less humiliation, as I have already said, in being in Le Chatelet than in St. Lazare. Besides, although I preserved all proper respect for the paternal authority, age and experience had considerably lessened my timidity. I wrote, and they made no difficulty in the prison about forwarding my letter; but it was a trouble I should have spared myself, had I known that my father was about to arrive on the following day in Paris. He had received the letter I had written to him a week before; it gave him extreme delight; but, notwithstanding the flattering hopes I had held out of my conversion, he could not implicitly rely on my statements. He determined therefore to satisfy himself of my reformation by the evidence of his own senses, and to regulate his conduct towards me according to his conviction of my sincerity. He arrived the day after my imprisonment.

I immediately started figuring out how to get my freedom. There hadn't been anything truly criminal in what I did; even if Marcel's evidence proved our guilty intentions, I knew that just having a criminal intent wasn't enough to be punished. I decided to write to my dad and ask him to come to Paris himself. I felt much less embarrassed, as I mentioned earlier, being in Le Chatelet than in St. Lazare. Plus, while I still respected my dad's authority, age and experience had made me a lot less timid. I wrote the letter, and the prison had no issue sending it, but it was a hassle I could have avoided if I had known my dad was arriving in Paris the next day. He had received the letter I sent him a week earlier, which thrilled him, but even with the hopeful signs of my change, he couldn’t fully trust what I said. So, he decided to see for himself if I had truly changed and would base his treatment of me on what he believed about my honesty. He got there the day after I was imprisoned.

"His first visit was to Tiberge, to whose care I begged that he would address his answer. He could not learn from him either my present abode or condition: Tiberge merely told him of my principal adventures since I had escaped from St. Lazare. Tiberge spoke warmly of the disposition to virtue which I had evinced at our last interview. He added, that he considered me as having quite got rid of Manon; but that he was nevertheless surprised at my not having given him any intelligence about myself for a week. My father was not to be duped. He fully comprehended that there was something in the silence of which Tiberge complained, which had escaped my poor friend's penetration; and he took such pains to find me out, that in two days after his arrival he learned that I was in Le Chatelet.

"His first stop was at Tiberge, to whom I asked him to send his reply. He couldn't find out from him my current location or situation: Tiberge only shared some of my main experiences since my escape from St. Lazare. Tiberge spoke highly of the commitment to virtue I had shown during our last meeting. He added that he believed I had completely moved on from Manon, but he was still surprised that I hadn't updated him about myself for a week. My father wasn't easily fooled. He understood that there was something in the silence Tiberge mentioned that had slipped by my poor friend's notice; and he made such an effort to track me down that two days after he arrived, he discovered that I was at Le Chatelet."

"Before I received this visit, which I little expected so soon, I had the honour of one from the lieutenant-general of police, or, to call things by their right names, I was subjected to an official examination. He upbraided me certainly, but not in any harsh or annoying manner. He told me, in the kindest tone, that he bitterly lamented my bad conduct; that I had committed a gross indiscretion in making an enemy of such a man as M. G—— M——; that in truth it was easy to see that there was, in the affair, more of imprudence and folly than of malice; but that still it was the second time I had been brought as a culprit under his cognisance; and that he had hoped I should have become more sedate, after the experience of two or three months in St. Lazare.

"Before I got this visit, which I didn't expect so soon, I had the honor of a visit from the lieutenant-general of police, or to put it plainly, I faced an official questioning. He certainly reprimanded me, but not in a harsh or annoying way. He told me, in the kindest tone, that he deeply regretted my bad behavior; that I had made a serious mistake by making an enemy of someone like M. G—— M——; that it was clear there was more thoughtlessness and foolishness than malice in the situation; but still, this was the second time I had been brought to his attention for wrongdoing; and he had hoped I would have become more composed after spending a couple of months in St. Lazare."

"Delighted at finding that I had a rational judge to deal with, I explained the affair to him in a manner at once so respectful and so moderate, that he seemed exceedingly satisfied with my answers to all the queries he put. He desired me not to abandon myself to grief, and assured me that he felt every disposition to serve me, as well on account of my birth as my inexperience. I ventured to bespeak his attentions in favour of Manon, and I dwelt upon her gentle and excellent disposition. He replied, with a smile, that he had not yet seen her, but that she had been represented to him as a most dangerous person. This expression so excited my sympathy, that I urged a thousand anxious arguments in favour of my poor mistress, and I could not restrain even from shedding tears.

Delighted to find I had a reasonable judge to talk to, I explained the situation to him in a way that was both respectful and calm, which made him very pleased with my responses to all his questions. He urged me not to give in to sadness and assured me that he was inclined to help me, both because of my background and my lack of experience. I took the chance to ask him to look out for Manon, emphasizing her kind and wonderful nature. He smiled and said he hadn't met her yet, but had heard she was a very dangerous person. This remark stirred my sympathy, and I presented countless anxious arguments in defense of my poor mistress, unable to hold back my tears.

"He desired them to conduct me back to my chamber. 'Love! love!' cried this grave magistrate as I went out, 'thou art never to be reconciled with discretion!'

"He wanted them to take me back to my room. 'Love! love!' shouted this serious official as I left, 'you can never be in harmony with caution!'"

"I had been occupied with the most melancholy reflections, and was thinking of the conversation I had had with the lieutenant-general of police, when I heard my door open. It was my father. Although I ought to have been half prepared for seeing him, and had reasons to expect his arrival within a day or two, yet I was so thunderstruck, that I could willingly have sunk into the earth, if it had been open at my feet. I embraced him in the greatest possible state of confusion. He took a seat, without either one or other of us having uttered a word.

"I had been lost in really sad thoughts, thinking about the conversation I had with the police lieutenant general when I heard my door open. It was my dad. Even though I should have been somewhat prepared to see him and had reasons to expect him within a day or two, I was so shocked that I would have gladly sunk into the ground if it had opened up beneath me. I hugged him in the most confused state possible. He sat down, and neither of us said a word."

"As I remained standing, with my head uncovered, and my eyes cast on the ground, 'Be seated, sir,' said he in a solemn voice; 'be seated. I have to thank the notoriety of your debaucheries for learning the place of your abode. It is the privilege of such fame as yours, that it cannot lie concealed. You are acquiring celebrity by an unerring path. Doubtless it will lead you to the Greve,[1] and you will then have the unfading glory of being held up to the admiration of the world.'

"As I stood there with my head bare and my eyes on the ground, he said in a serious tone, 'Please, have a seat, sir. I owe my knowledge of your address to the infamous reputation of your excesses. It's the nature of such fame that it can't stay hidden. You're gaining notoriety in a sure way. No doubt, it will take you to the Greve,[1] and then you'll have the lasting honor of being showcased for the world to admire.'"

"I made no reply. He continued: 'What an unhappy lot is that of a father, who having tenderly loved a child, and strained every nerve to bring him up a virtuous and respectable man, finds him turn out in the end a worthless profligate, who dishonours him. To an ordinary reverse of fortune one may be reconciled; time softens the affliction, and even the indulgence of sorrow itself is not unavailing; but what remedy is there for an evil that is perpetually augmenting, such as the profligacy of a vicious son, who has deserted every principle of honour, and is ever plunging from deep into deeper vice? You are silent,' added he: 'look at this counterfeit modesty, this hypocritical air of gentleness!— might he not pass for the most respectable member of his family?'

I didn't respond. He went on: "What a sad situation it is for a father who, after lovingly raising a child and doing everything he can to help him become a good and honorable man, ends up with a worthless, immoral person who brings shame upon him. You can get used to a typical setback; time eases the pain, and even the act of grieving has its merits. But what can you do about a problem that keeps getting worse, like the behavior of a corrupt son who has abandoned all principles of honor and is constantly sinking deeper into vice? You're quiet," he added. "Look at this false modesty, this fake air of gentleness!— could he not be seen as the most respectable member of his family?"

"Although I could not but feel that I deserved, in some degree, these reproaches, yet he appeared to me to carry them beyond all reason. I thought I might be permitted to explain my feelings.

"Even though I couldn't help but feel that I deserved some of these criticisms, he seemed to be taking them too far. I thought I should be allowed to share my perspective."

"'I assure you, sir,' said I to him, 'that the modesty which you ridicule is by no means affected; it is the natural feeling of a son who entertains sincere respect for his father, and above all, a father irritated as you justly are by his faults. Neither have I, sir, the slightest wish to pass for the most respectable member of my family. I know that I have merited your reproaches, but I conjure you to temper them with mercy, and not to look upon me as the most infamous of mankind. I do not deserve such harsh names. It is love, you know it, that has caused all my errors. Fatal passion! Have you yourself never felt its force? Is it possible that you, with the same blood in your veins that flows in mine, should have passed through life unscathed by the same excitements? Love has rendered me perhaps foolishly tender—too easily excited—too impassioned—too faithful, and probably too indulgent to the desires and caprices, or, if you will, the faults of an adored mistress. These are my crimes; are they such as to reflect dishonour upon you? Come, my dear father,' said I tenderly, 'show some pity for a son, who has never ceased to feel respect and affection for you—who has not renounced, as you say, all feelings of honour and of duty, and who is himself a thousand times more an object of pity than you imagine.' I could not help shedding a tear as I concluded this appeal.

"'I assure you, sir,' I said to him, 'that the modesty you mock is not fake; it’s a natural feeling of a son who has genuine respect for his father, especially for a father who is understandably irritated by his faults. I also have no desire, sir, to be seen as the most respectable member of my family. I know I deserve your criticisms, but I beg you to soften them with kindness and not to see me as the worst person in the world. I don’t deserve such harsh labels. It’s love, as you know, that has led to all my mistakes. A destructive passion! Have you never felt its power? Is it possible that you, with the same blood running through your veins as mine, have gone through life untouched by those same feelings? Love has made me perhaps foolishly tender—too easily stirred—too passionate—too loyal, and likely too forgiving of the wants and whims, or, if you prefer, the faults of a beloved mistress. These are my sins; are they enough to bring disgrace on you? Please, my dear father,' I said gently, 'show some compassion for a son who has always felt respect and love for you—who has not given up, as you claim, all sense of honor and duty, and who is truly a far greater object of pity than you think.' I couldn't help but shed a tear as I finished this plea."

"A father's heart is a chef-d'oeuvre of creation. There nature rules in undisturbed dominion, and regulates at will its most secret springs. He was a man of high feeling and good taste, and was so sensibly affected by the turn I had given to my defence, that he could no longer hide from me the change I had wrought.

"A father's heart is a masterpiece of creation. There, nature reigns in complete control and manages its most hidden emotions. He was a man of deep feelings and good taste, and he was so moved by the way I had presented my defense that he could no longer conceal the change I had caused."

"'Come to me, my poor chevalier,' said he; 'come and embrace me. I do pity you!'

"'Come here, my poor knight,' he said; 'come and hug me. I truly feel for you!'"

"I embraced him: he pressed me to him in such a manner, that I guessed what was passing in his heart.

"I hugged him: he pulled me close in a way that made me realize what he was feeling inside."

"'But how are we,' said he, 'to extricate you from this place? Explain to me the real situation of your affairs.'

"'But how are we,' he said, 'going to get you out of this place? Explain to me what’s really going on with your situation.'"

"As there really was not anything in my conduct so grossly improper as to reflect dishonour upon me; at least, in comparison with the conduct of other young men of a certain station in the world; and as a mistress is not considered a disgrace, any more than a little dexterity in drawing some advantage from play, I gave my father a candid detail of the life I had been leading. As I recounted each transgression, I took care to cite some illustrious example in my justification, in order to palliate my own faults.

"As there wasn't anything in my behavior that was so shameful as to bring dishonor upon me; at least, compared to how other young men of my social standing acted; and since having a mistress isn't seen as disgraceful, just like being a little clever in gaining some advantage in gambling, I gave my father an honest account of the life I had been living. As I mentioned each mistake, I made sure to reference some famous example to justify my actions and lessen my own faults."

"'I lived,' said I, 'with a mistress without the solemnity of marriage. The Duke of —— keeps two before the eyes of all Paris. M—— D—— has had one now for ten years, and loves her with a fidelity which he has never shown to his wife. Two-thirds of the men of fashion in Paris keep mistresses.

"'I lived,' I said, 'with a partner without the commitment of marriage. The Duke of —— has two right out in the open for all of Paris to see. M—— D—— has had one for ten years now and loves her with a loyalty he has never shown to his wife. Two-thirds of the fashionable men in Paris have mistresses.'

"'I certainly have on one or two occasions cheated at play. Well, the Marquis of —— and the Count —— have no other source of revenue. The Prince of —— and the Duke of —— are at the head of a gang of the same industrious order.' As for the designs I had upon the pockets of the two G—— M——s, I might just as easily have proved that I had abundant models for that also; but I had too much pride to plead guilty to this charge, and rest on the justification of example; so that I begged of my father to ascribe my weakness on this occasion to the violence of the two passions which agitated me—Revenge and Love.

"I have definitely cheated a few times while playing. Well, the Marquis of —— and the Count —— don’t have any other source of income. The Prince of —— and the Duke of —— are leading a group of the same hardworking kind. As for my intentions regarding the two G—— M——s' money, I could have easily shown that I had plenty of inspiration for that too; but I had too much pride to admit to this accusation and rely on the excuse of others’ behavior. So, I asked my father to attribute my weakness this time to the intensity of the two emotions that were stirring in me—Revenge and Love."

"He asked me whether I could suggest any means of obtaining my liberty, and in such a way as to avoid publicity as much as possible. I told him of the kind feelings which the lieutenant-general of police had expressed towards me. 'If you encounter any obstacles,' said I, 'they will be offered only by the two G—— M——s; so that I think it would be advisable to call upon them.'

"He asked me if I could suggest any way to secure my freedom while keeping things as low-key as possible. I mentioned the kind sentiments that the lieutenant-general of police had shown towards me. 'If you run into any obstacles,' I said, 'they will only come from the two G—— M——s; so I think it would be best to reach out to them.'"

"He promised to do so.

"He promised to do that."

"I did not dare ask him to solicit Manon's liberation; this was not from want of courage, but from the apprehension of exasperating him by such a proposition, and perhaps driving him to form some design fatal to the future happiness of us both. It remains to this hour a problem whether this fear on my part was not the immediate cause of all my most terrible misfortunes, by preventing me from ascertaining my father's disposition, and endeavouring to inspire him with favourable feelings towards my poor mistress: I might have perhaps once more succeeded in exciting his commiseration; I might have put him on his guard against the impression which he was sure of receiving from a visit to old G—— M——. But how can I tell what the consequences would have been! My unhappy fate would have most probably counteracted all my efforts; but it would have been a consolation to have had nothing else but that, and the cruelty of my enemies, to blame for my afflictions.

"I didn't dare ask him to help free Manon; it wasn't due to a lack of courage, but because I feared that such a request would upset him and possibly lead him to come up with a plan that could jeopardize our future happiness. To this day, it's a mystery whether my fear was the root of all my worst misfortunes, as it stopped me from figuring out my father's feelings and trying to win him over to support my poor mistress. Perhaps I could have stirred his compassion once more; I could have warned him about the effect visiting old G—— M—— would have on him. But how can I know what might have happened? My unfortunate fate would likely have undermined all my efforts; still, it would have been comforting to know that I could blame only that and the cruelty of my enemies for my suffering."

"On quitting me, my father went to pay a visit to M. G—— M——. He found him with his son, whom the guardsman had safely restored to liberty. I never learned the particulars of their conversation; but I could easily infer them from the disastrous results. They went together (the two old gentlemen) to the lieutenant-general of police, from whom they requested one favour each: the first was to have me at once liberated from Le Chatelet; the second to condemn Manon to perpetual imprisonment, or to transport her for life to America. They happened, at that very period, to be sending out a number of convicts to the Mississippi. The lieutenant-general promised to have her embarked on board the first vessel that sailed.

After leaving me, my father went to visit M. G—— M——. He found him with his son, whom the guardsman had safely released. I never found out the details of their conversation, but I could easily guess them from the unfortunate outcomes. The two old gentlemen went together to see the lieutenant-general of police, from whom they each requested a favor: the first was to have me immediately released from Le Chatelet; the second was to sentence Manon to life imprisonment or to send her to America for life. At that very time, they were sending a number of convicts to the Mississippi. The lieutenant-general promised to have her put on the first ship that left.

"M. G—— M—— and my father came together to bring me the news of my liberation. M. G—— M—— said something civil with reference to what had passed; and having congratulated me upon my happiness in having such a father, he exhorted me to profit henceforward by his instruction and example. My father desired me to express my sorrow for the injustice I had even contemplated against his family, and my gratitude for his having assisted in procuring my liberation.

"M. G—— M—— and my dad came to tell me about my freedom. M. G—— M—— said something polite about what had happened and congratulated me on having such a great father. He encouraged me to learn from my dad's guidance and example moving forward. My dad asked me to express my regret for even thinking about doing something unfair to his family and my appreciation for helping to secure my release."

"We all left the prison together, without the mention of Manon's name. I dared not in their presence speak of her to the turnkeys. Alas! all my entreaties in her favour would have been useless. The cruel sentence upon Manon had arrived at the same time as the warrant for my discharge. The unfortunate girl was conducted in an hour after to the Hospital, to be there classed with some other wretched women, who had been condemned to the same punishment.

"We all left the prison together, without mentioning Manon's name. I didn’t dare to speak of her to the guards in front of them. Unfortunately, all my pleas on her behalf would have been pointless. The harsh sentence for Manon had arrived at the same time as the order for my release. The poor girl was taken to the hospital an hour later to be classified with other unfortunate women who had been given the same punishment."

"My father having forced me to accompany him to the house where he was residing, it was near six o'clock before I had an opportunity of escaping his vigilance. In returning to Le Chatelet, my only wish was to convey some refreshments to Manon, and to recommend her to the attention of the porter; for I had no hope of being permitted to see her; nor had I, as yet, had time to reflect on the best means of rescuing her.

"My father made me go with him to the place where he was living, and it was nearly six o'clock before I finally had a chance to escape his watchfulness. On my way back to Le Chatelet, all I wanted was to bring some food to Manon and ask the porter to look after her; I had no hope of being allowed to see her, and I hadn't yet had the time to figure out the best way to help her."

"I asked for the porter. I had won his heart, as much by my liberality to him, as by the mildness of my manner; so that, having a disposition to serve me, he spoke of Manon's sentence as a calamity which he sincerely regretted, since it was calculated to mortify me. I was at first unable to comprehend his meaning. We conversed for some minutes without my understanding him. At length perceiving that an explanation was necessary, he gave me such a one, as on a former occasion I wanted courage to relate to you, and which, even now, makes my blood curdle in my veins to remember."

"I called for the porter. I had won him over, partly because I was generous with him and partly because I was kind, so he was eager to help me. He mentioned Manon's sentence as a tragedy that he genuinely felt sorry about since it would upset me. At first, I couldn’t grasp what he meant. We talked for a few minutes without me understanding him. Finally realizing that I needed clarification, he gave me an explanation that I had previously lacked the courage to share with you, and even now, it makes my blood run cold to think about."



[1] Who has e'er been at Paris must needs know the Greve,
     The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave,
     Where honour and justice most oddly contribute,
     To ease heroes' pains by the halter and gibbet.—PRIOR.

[1] Anyone who has ever been to Paris must know about the Greve,
     The tragic end for the unfortunate brave,
     Where honor and justice strangely come together,
     To ease the heroes' suffering with the noose and gallows.—PRIOR.




XI


Alack! it is not when we sleep soft and wake merrily that we think on other people's sufferings; but when the hour of trouble comes, said Jeanie Deans.—WALTER SCOTT.

Alas! It's not when we sleep comfortably and wake up happily that we think about other people's troubles; it's when the times get tough, as Jeanie Deans said. —WALTER SCOTT.


"Never did apoplexy produce on mortal a more sudden or terrific effect than did the announcement of Manon's sentence upon me. I fell prostrate, with so intense a palpitation of the heart, that as I swooned I thought that death itself was come upon me. This idea continued even after I had been restored to my senses. I gazed around me upon every part of the room, then upon my own paralysed limbs, doubting, in my delirium, whether I still bore about me the attributes of a living man. It is quite certain that, in obedience to the desire I felt of terminating my sufferings, even by my own hand, nothing could have been to me more welcome than death at that moment of anguish and despair. Religion itself could depict nothing more insupportable after death than the racking agony with which I was then convulsed. Yet, by a miracle, only within the power of omnipotent love, I soon regained strength enough to express my gratitude to Heaven for restoring me to sense and reason. My death could have only been a relief and blessing to myself; whereas Manon had occasion for my prolonged existence, in order to deliver her—to succour her—to avenge her wrongs: I swore to devote that existence unremittingly to these objects.

"Never has a stroke of shock had such a sudden or terrifying impact on a person as the announcement of Manon's sentence did on me. I collapsed, my heart racing so intensely that as I fainted, I thought death had come for me. This thought lingered even after I regained consciousness. I looked around the room, then at my own paralyzed limbs, doubting in my delirium whether I still possessed the signs of a living man. It was clear that, driven by the desire to end my suffering, even at my own hand, nothing would have been more welcome than death in that moment of anguish and despair. Religion itself could describe nothing more unbearable after death than the torment I was experiencing. Yet, by a miracle only possible through boundless love, I soon regained enough strength to express my gratitude to Heaven for bringing me back to my senses and reason. My death would have only been a relief and blessing for me; however, Manon needed me to live longer to help her—to support her—to seek justice for her wrongs: I vowed to dedicate my existence entirely to these purposes."

"The porter gave me every assistance that I could have expected at the hands of my oldest friend: I accepted his services with the liveliest gratitude. 'Alas!' said I to him, 'you then are affected by my sufferings! The whole world abandons me; my own father proves one of the very cruellest of my persecutors; no person feels pity for me! You alone, in this abode of suffering and shame—you alone exhibit compassion for the most wretched of mankind!' He advised me not to appear in the street until I had recovered a little from my affliction. 'Do not stop me,' said I, as I went out; 'we shall meet again sooner than you imagine: get ready your darkest dungeon, for I shall shortly become its tenant.'

"The porter helped me as much as any old friend would have: I accepted his help with deep gratitude. 'Oh no!' I said to him, 'you’re affected by my pain! The whole world has turned its back on me; my own father is one of my harshest tormentors; no one feels sorry for me! You alone, in this place of suffering and shame—you alone show compassion for the most miserable of people!' He advised me not to go outside until I was feeling a bit better. 'Don’t stop me,' I said as I walked out; 'we’ll meet again sooner than you think: prepare your darkest dungeon, because I will soon be its occupant.'

"In fact, my first idea was nothing less than to make away with the two G—— M——s, and the lieutenant-general of police; and then to attack the Hospital, sword in hand, assisted by all whom I could enlist in my cause. Even my father's life was hardly respected, so just appeared my feelings of vengeance; for the porter had informed me that he and G—— M—— were jointly the authors of my ruin.

"In fact, my first plan was nothing less than to take out the two G—— M——s and the lieutenant-general of police; and then to storm the Hospital, sword in hand, with help from anyone I could recruit for my cause. Even my father's life was barely off-limits, given how strong my feelings of revenge were; the porter had told me that he and G—— M—— were the ones responsible for my downfall."

"But when I had advanced some paces into the street, and the fresh air had cooled my excitement, I gradually viewed matters in a more rational mood. The death of our enemies could be of little use to Manon; and the obvious effect of such violence would be to deprive me of all other chance of serving her. Besides, could I ever bring myself to be a cowardly assassin? By what other means could I accomplish my revenge? I set all my ingenuity and all my efforts at work to procure the deliverance of Manon, leaving everything else to be considered hereafter when I had succeeded in this first and paramount object.

"But as I walked a few steps into the street and the fresh air calmed my excitement, I slowly started to see things more clearly. The death of our enemies wouldn't really help Manon, and the obvious outcome of such violence would just take away any chance I had of helping her. Besides, could I ever bring myself to be a cowardly killer? What other way could I get my revenge? I focused all my creativity and energy on figuring out how to free Manon, planning to think about everything else later once I achieved this most important goal."

"I had very little money left; money, however, was an indispensable basis for all my operations. I only knew three persons from whom I had any right to ask pecuniary assistance—M. de T——, Tiberge, and my father. There appeared little chance of obtaining any from the two latter, and I was really ashamed again to importune M. de T——. But it is not in desperate emergencies that one stands upon points of ceremony. I went first to the seminary of St. Sulpice, without considering whether I should be recognised. I asked for Tiberge. His first words showed me that he knew nothing of my latest adventure: this made me change the design I had originally formed of appealing at once to his compassion. I spoke generally of the pleasure it had given me to see my father again; and I then begged of him to lend me some money, under the pretext of being anxious before I left Paris to pay a few little debts, which I wished to keep secret. He handed me his purse, without a single remark. I took twenty or twenty-five pounds, which it contained. I offered him my note of hand, but he was too generous to accept it.

I had very little money left; money, however, was essential for everything I needed to do. I only knew three people I could ask for financial help—M. de T——, Tiberge, and my father. There seemed to be little chance of getting any from the latter two, and I was honestly embarrassed to bother M. de T—— again. But in desperate situations, you don’t worry about formalities. I first went to the St. Sulpice seminary, not thinking about whether I would be recognized. I asked for Tiberge. His first words showed me that he didn’t know anything about my recent troubles, which made me rethink my plan to appeal to his pity right away. I talked about how happy I was to see my father again; then I asked him to lend me some money, pretending I wanted to pay off a few small debts before leaving Paris, which I wanted to keep private. He handed me his wallet without saying a word. I took twenty or twenty-five pounds from it. I offered him a promissory note, but he was too generous to take it.

"I then went to M. de T——: I had no reserve with him. I plainly told him my misfortunes and distress: he already knew everything, and had informed himself even of the most trifling circumstance, on account of the interest he naturally took in young G—— M——'s adventure. He, however, listened to me, and seemed sincerely to lament what had occurred. When I consulted him as to the best means of rescuing Manon, he answered that he saw such little ground for hope, that, without some extraordinary interposition of Providence, it would be folly to expect relief; that he had paid a visit expressly to the Hospital since Manon had been transferred from the Chatelet, but that he could not even obtain permission to see her, as the lieutenant-general of police had given the strictest orders to the contrary; and that, to complete the catastrophe, the unfortunate train of convicts, in which she was to be included, was to take its departure from Paris the day but one after.

I then went to M. de T——: I was completely open with him. I told him about my troubles and stress: he already knew everything and had looked into even the smallest details because he was genuinely interested in young G—— M——'s situation. He listened to me and seemed truly sorry for what had happened. When I asked him about the best way to rescue Manon, he said he couldn't see much hope, and that without some extraordinary act of Providence, expecting help would be foolish; he had specifically visited the Hospital since Manon had been moved from the Chatelet, but he couldn’t even get permission to see her, as the lieutenant-general of police had given strict orders against it; and adding to the disaster, the unfortunate group of convicts, which included her, was set to leave Paris the day after tomorrow.

"I was so confounded by what he said, that if he had gone on speaking for another hour, I should not have interrupted him. He continued to tell me, that the reason of his not calling to see me at the Chatelet was, that he hoped to be of more use by appearing to be unknown to me; that for the last few hours, since I had been set at liberty, he had in vain looked for me, in order to suggest the only plan through which he could see a hope of averting Manon's fate. He told me it was dangerous counsel to give, and implored me never to mention the part he took in it; it was to find some enterprising fellows gallant enough to attack Manon's guard on getting outside the barriere. Nor did he wait for me to urge a plea of poverty. 'Here is fifty pounds,' he said, presenting me his purse; 'it may be of use to you; you can repay me when you are in better circumstances.' He added, that if the fear of losing his character did not prevent him from embarking in such an enterprise, he would have willingly put his sword and his life at my service.

I was so taken aback by what he said that if he had kept talking for another hour, I wouldn’t have interrupted him. He went on to explain that the reason he hadn’t come to see me at the Chatelet was that he thought he could be more helpful by pretending to be a stranger to me; that for the last few hours, since I had been released, he had been unsuccessfully searching for me to suggest the only plan he believed could offer a chance of saving Manon. He warned me that it was risky advice and begged me never to mention his involvement; the plan was to find some brave guys willing to attack Manon's guard as we got outside the barrier. He didn’t wait for me to bring up a money issue. "Here’s fifty pounds," he said, handing me his purse; "it might help you out; you can pay me back when you’re in a better situation." He added that if he weren't worried about his reputation, he would have gladly offered his sword and his life for my cause.

"This unlooked-for generosity affected me to tears. I expressed my gratitude with as much warmth as my depressed spirits left at my command. I asked him if there were nothing to be expected from interceding with the lieutenant-general of police: he said that he had considered that point; but that he looked upon it as a hopeless attempt, because a favour of that nature was never accorded without some strong motive, and he did not see what inducement could be held out for engaging the intercession of any person of power on her behalf; that if any hope could possibly be entertained upon the point, it must be by working a change in the feelings of old G—— M—— and my father, and by prevailing on them to solicit from the lieutenant-general of police the revocation of Manon's sentence. He offered to do everything in his power to gain over the younger G—— M——, although he fancied a coldness in that gentleman's manner towards him, probably from some suspicions he might entertain of his being concerned in the late affair; and he entreated me to lose no opportunity of effecting the desired change in my father's mind.

"This unexpected generosity brought me to tears. I expressed my gratitude as warmly as I could, given my low spirits. I asked him if there was any chance of getting the lieutenant-general of police involved. He said he had thought about it, but he believed it was a lost cause since such favors were never granted without a strong reason, and he didn’t see any incentive that could convince someone in power to help her. He thought that any hope would have to come from changing the feelings of old G—— M—— and my father, urging them to ask the lieutenant-general of police to overturn Manon’s sentence. He offered to do everything he could to win over the younger G—— M——, despite sensing a coldness from him, likely due to suspicions about his involvement in the recent events. He urged me to seize any opportunity to change my father’s mind."

"This was no easy undertaking for me; not only on account of the difficulty I should naturally meet in overcoming his opinion, but for another reason which made me fear even to approach him; I had quitted his lodgings contrary to his express orders, and was resolved, since I had learned the sad fate of my poor Manon, never again to return thither. I was not without apprehensions indeed of his now retaining me against my will, and perhaps taking me at once back with him into the country. My elder brother had formerly had recourse to this violent measure. True, I was now somewhat older; but age is a feeble argument against force. I hit upon a mode, however, of avoiding this danger, which was to get him by contrivance to some public place, and there announce myself to him under an assumed name: I immediately resolved on this method. M. de T—— went to G—— M——'s, and I to the Luxembourg, whence I sent my father word, that a gentleman waited there to speak with him. I hardly thought he would come, as the night was advancing. He, however, soon made his appearance, followed by a servant: I begged of him to choose a walk where we could be alone. We walked at least a hundred paces without speaking. He doubtless imagined that so much precaution could not be taken without some important object. He waited for my opening speech, and I was meditating how to commence it.

This was no easy task for me; not only because of the challenge I would naturally face in changing his mind, but for another reason that made me hesitate to approach him. I had left his place against his direct orders, and since I had learned the unfortunate fate of my poor Manon, I was determined never to go back there. I was indeed worried that he might try to keep me against my will and possibly take me back to the countryside right away. My older brother had previously used this drastic approach. True, I was a bit older now, but age is a weak defense against force. I came up with a plan to avoid this danger, which was to trick him into meeting me in a public place and there introduce myself under a fake name: I quickly decided this was the way to go. M. de T—— went to G—— M——'s, and I headed to the Luxembourg, where I informed my father that a gentleman was waiting there to speak with him. I hardly expected he would come, as night was approaching. However, he soon showed up, followed by a servant. I asked him to choose a path where we could be alone. We walked at least a hundred paces without speaking. He probably thought that such caution couldn't be for no reason. He waited for me to speak first, while I figured out how to start.

"At length I began.

Finally, I started.

"'Sir,' said I, trembling, 'you are a good and affectionate parent; you have loaded me with favours, and have forgiven me an infinite number of faults; I also, in my turn, call Heaven to witness the sincere, and tender, and respectful sentiments I entertain towards you. But it does seem to me, that your inexorable severity——'

"'Sir,' I said, trembling, 'you are a good and loving parent; you have showered me with kindness and forgiven me countless mistakes. I, too, swear to Heaven my sincere, tender, and respectful feelings towards you. But it seems to me that your unyielding harshness——'

"'Well, sir, my severity!' interrupted my father, who no doubt found my hesitation little suited to his impatience.

"'Well, sir, my strictness!' interrupted my father, who no doubt found my hesitation hardly matched his impatience.

"'Ah, sir,' I replied, 'it does seem to me that your severity is excessive in the penalty you inflict upon the unfortunate Manon. You have taken only M. G—— M——'s report of her. His hatred has made him represent her to you in the most odious colours: you have formed a frightful idea of her. She is, on the contrary, the mildest and most amiable of living creatures; would that Heaven had but inspired you at any one moment with the desire of seeing her! I am convinced that you would be not less sensible of her perfections than your unhappy son. You would then have been her advocate; you would have abhorred the foul artifices of G—— M——; you would have had pity on both her and me. Alas! I am persuaded of it; your heart is not insensible; it must ere now have melted with compassion.'

"‘Ah, sir,’ I replied, ‘it seems to me that your punishment is too harsh for the unfortunate Manon. You've only consider M. G—— M——'s report about her. His hatred has painted her in the worst possible light: you've formed a terrible impression of her. In reality, she is the gentlest and kindest creature alive; I wish Heaven had inspired you to desire to see her at any moment! I'm sure you would appreciate her qualities just as much as your troubled son does. You would have then stood up for her; you would have rejected the vile schemes of G—— M——; you would have felt compassion for both her and me. Oh! I am convinced of it; your heart isn't unmoved; it must have softened with pity by now.’"

"He interrupted me again, perceiving that I spoke with a warmth which would not allow me to finish very briefly. He begged to know with what request I intended to wind up so fervent an harangue.

"He interrupted me again, noticing that I was speaking with a passion that wouldn’t let me finish quickly. He asked what request I planned to make after such a fervent speech."

"'To ask my life at your hands,' said I, 'which I never can retain if Manon once embark for America.'

"'To ask for my life from you,' I said, 'which I can never hold onto if Manon sets off for America.'"

"'No! no!' replied he, in the severest tone; 'I would rather see you lifeless, than infamous and depraved.'

"'No! No!' he replied, in the sternest tone; 'I would rather see you dead than infamous and corrupted.'"

"'We have gone far enough, then,' said I, catching hold of his arm; 'take from me, in common mercy, my life! weary and odious and insupportable as it henceforward must be; for in the state of despair into which you now plunge me, death would be the greatest favour you could bestow—a favour worthy of a father's hand.'

"'We've come far enough now,' I said, grabbing his arm; 'in common mercy, please take my life! It's going to be weary, disgusting, and unbearable from here on out; because in the state of despair you've now thrown me into, death would be the greatest favor you could give me—a favor worthy of a father's hand.'"

"'I should only give you what you deserve,' replied he; 'I know fathers who would not have shown as much patience as I have, but would themselves have executed speedy justice; but it is my foolish and excessive forbearance that has been your ruin.'

"'I should only give you what you deserve,' he replied; 'I know fathers who wouldn’t have been as patient as I have been, but would have quickly dealt out justice themselves; but it’s my foolish and excessive patience that has been your downfall.'"

"I threw myself at his feet: 'Ah!' exclaimed I, 'if you have still any remains of mercy, do not harden your heart against my distress and sorrow. Remember that I am your child! Alas! think of my poor mother! you loved her tenderly! would you have suffered her to be torn from your arms? You would have defended her to the death! May not the same feeling then be pardoned in others? Can persons become barbarous and cruel, after having themselves experienced the softening influence of tenderness and grief?'

"I fell to his feet: 'Ah!' I exclaimed, 'if you still have any mercy left, please don’t harden your heart against my pain and sorrow. Remember that I am your child! Oh! Think of my poor mother! You loved her dearly! Would you have allowed her to be taken from your arms? You would have fought to the death for her! Can’t the same feeling be forgiven in others? How can people become cruel and heartless after having felt the gentle touch of love and grief themselves?'"

"'Breathe not again the sacred name of your mother,' he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder; 'the very allusion to her memory rouses my indignation. Had she lived to witness the unredeemed profligacy of your life, it would have brought her in pain and sorrow to her grave.—Let us put an end to this discussion' he added; 'it distresses me, and makes not the slightest change in my determination: I am going back to my lodgings, and I desire you to follow me.'

"Breathe not again the sacred name of your mother," he shouted, his voice booming. "Even mentioning her name fills me with anger. If she had lived to see the unrepentant waste of your life, it would have caused her great pain and sorrow before her death. Let's end this conversation," he continued. "It upsets me and doesn’t change my mind at all: I’m going back to my place, and I want you to follow me."

"The cool and resolute tone in which he uttered this command, convinced me that he was inexorable. I stepped some paces aside, for fear he should think fit to lay hands upon me.

"The calm and determined way he gave this command convinced me that he was unyielding. I stepped aside a bit, afraid he might decide to put his hands on me."

"'Do not increase my misery and despair,' said I to him, 'by forcing me to disobey you. It is impossible for me to follow you; and equally so that I should continue to live, after the unkind treatment I have experienced from you. I, therefore, bid you an eternal adieu. When you know that I am dead, as I shall soon be, the paternal affection which you once entertained for me may be perhaps revived.'

"'Don't make my suffering and despair worse,' I said to him, 'by making me disobey you. It's impossible for me to follow you, and it's equally impossible for me to keep living after the cruel treatment I've received from you. So, I say goodbye forever. When you find out that I'm dead, which will be soon, maybe the fatherly love you once had for me will be revived.'"

"As I was about to turn away from him: 'You refuse then to follow me,' cried he, in a tone of excessive anger. 'Go! go on to your ruin. Adieu! ungrateful and disobedient boy.'

"As I was about to turn away from him, he shouted, 'You won't follow me, then? Go! Go ahead and ruin yourself. Goodbye, you ungrateful and disobedient boy.'"

"'Adieu!' exclaimed I to him, in a burst of grief, 'adieu, cruel and unnatural father!'

"'Goodbye!' I exclaimed to him, overwhelmed with grief, 'goodbye, cruel and unnatural father!'"

"I left the Luxembourg, and rushed like a madman through the streets to M. de T——'s house. I raised my hands and eyes as I went along, invoking the Almighty Powers: 'O Heaven,' cried I, 'will you not prove more merciful than man! The only hope that remains to me is from above!'

"I left the Luxembourg and ran like crazy through the streets to M. de T——'s house. As I went, I lifted my hands and eyes, calling out to the Almighty: 'Oh Heaven,' I cried, 'will you not show more mercy than people! The only hope I have left comes from above!'"

"M. de T—— had not yet returned home; but he arrived before many minutes had elapsed. His negotiation had been as unsuccessful as my own. He told me so with the most sorrowful countenance. Young G—— M——, although less irritated than his father against Manon and me, would not undertake to petition in our favour. He was, in great measure, deterred by the fear which he himself had of the vindictive old lecher, who had already vented his anger against him for his design of forming a connection with Manon.

M. de T—— hadn't returned home yet, but he showed up within a few minutes. His attempt had been just as unsuccessful as mine. He told me this with a really sad expression. Young G—— M——, while less angry than his father about Manon and me, was not willing to advocate for us. He was largely held back by his own fear of the vengeful old man, who had already expressed his anger towards him for trying to connect with Manon.

"There only remained to me, therefore, the violent measures which M. T—— had suggested. I now confined all my hopes to them. They were questionless most uncertain; but they held out to me, at least, a substantial consolation, in the certainty of meeting death in the attempt, if unsuccessful. I left him, begging that he would offer up his best wishes for my triumph; and I thought only of finding some companions, to whom I might communicate a portion of my own courage and determination.

"There was nothing left for me but the drastic actions that M. T—— had proposed. I put all my hopes into them. They were definitely risky, but at least they promised me some comfort in knowing I'd meet death trying if I failed. I left him, asking him to send his best wishes for my success; and I focused solely on finding some companions to share a bit of my own bravery and resolve."

"The first that occurred to me was the same guardsman whom I had employed to arrest G—— M——. I had intended indeed to pass the night at his rooms, not having had a moment of leisure during the afternoon to procure myself a lodging. I found him alone. He was glad to see me out of the Chatelet. He made me an offer of his services. I explained to him in what way he might now do me the greatest kindness. He had good sense enough to perceive all the difficulties; but he was also generous enough to undertake to surmount them.

"The first person that came to mind was the same guardsman I had hired to arrest G—— M——. I had actually planned to spend the night at his place, since I hadn’t had a moment to find somewhere to stay during the afternoon. I found him alone, and he was happy to see me out of the Chatelet. He offered me his help. I explained how he could do me the biggest favor. He was smart enough to see all the challenges, but he was also generous enough to agree to help me overcome them."

"We spent part of the night in considering how the plot was to be executed. He spoke of the three soldiers whom he had made use of on the last occasion, as men whose courage had been proved. M. de T—— had told me the exact number of archers that would escort Manon; they were but six. Five strong and determined men could not fail to strike terror into these fellows, who would never think of defending themselves bravely, when they were to be allowed the alternative of avoiding danger by surrendering; and of that they would no doubt avail themselves. As I was not without money, the guardsman advised me to spare no pains or expense to ensure success. 'We must be mounted,' he said, 'and each man must have his carbine and pistols; I will take care to prepare everything requisite by tomorrow. We shall also want three new suits of regimentals for the soldiers, who dare not appear in an affray of this kind in the uniform of their regiment. I handed him the hundred pistoles which I had got from M. de T——; it was all expended the next morning, to the very last sou. I inspected the three soldiers; I animated them with the most liberal promises; and to confirm their confidence in me, I began by making each man a present of ten pistoles.

"We spent part of the night figuring out how to carry out the plan. He talked about the three soldiers he had used last time, saying they were tough and reliable. M. de T—— had informed me of the exact number of archers who would be escorting Manon; there were only six. Five strong and determined men would easily intimidate these guys, who would never consider standing up for themselves when they could just surrender to avoid danger, and they would likely choose that option. Since I had some money, the guardsman suggested I should spare no effort or expense to make sure we succeeded. 'We need to be mounted,' he said, 'and each man should have a carbine and pistols; I’ll make sure we have everything ready by tomorrow. We also need three new uniforms for the soldiers, who can’t show up to a fight in their regiment's attire.' I gave him the hundred pistoles I got from M. de T——; it was all spent by the next morning, down to the last sou. I checked in on the three soldiers, encouraged them with generous promises, and to boost their confidence in me, I started by giving each of them a gift of ten pistoles."

"The momentous day having arrived, I sent one of them at an early hour to the Hospital, to ascertain the exact time when the police were to start with their prisoners. Although I merely took this precaution from my excessive anxiety, it turned out to have been a prudent step. I had formed my plans upon false information, which I had received as to their destination; and believing that it was at Rochelle this unhappy group was to embark, all my trouble would have been thrown away in waiting for them on the Orleans road. However, I learned, by the soldier's report, that they would go out towards Rouen, and that it was from Havre-de-Grace they were to sail for America.

The big day had arrived, so I sent one of them early in the morning to the Hospital to find out when the police were taking their prisoners. I only did this because I was so anxious, but it turned out to be a smart move. I had based my plans on false information about where they were headed; I thought they were going to board in Rochelle, and I would have wasted all my effort waiting for them on the Orleans road. However, the soldier reported back that they were heading toward Rouen, and that they would be sailing for America from Havre-de-Grace.

"We at once went to the gate of St. Honore, taking care to go by different streets. We assembled at the end of the faubourg. Our horses were fresh. In a little time we observed before us the six archers and the two wretched caravans, which you saw at Passy two years ago. The sight alone almost deprived me of my strength and senses. 'Oh fate!' said I to myself, 'cruel fate! grant me now either death or victory.'

"We immediately headed to the gate of St. Honore, making sure to take different streets. We gathered at the end of the suburb. Our horses were energetic. Soon, we saw ahead of us the six archers and the two miserable caravans that you saw at Passy two years ago. Just the sight of them nearly drained me of my strength and senses. 'Oh fate!' I said to myself, 'cruel fate! grant me now either death or victory.'"

"We hastily consulted as to the mode of making the attack. The cavalcade was only four hundred paces in advance, and we might intercept them by cutting across a small field, round which the high road led. The guardsman was for this course, in order to fall suddenly upon them while unprepared. I approved of the plan, and was the first to spur my horse forward—but fate once again relentlessly blasted all my hopes.

"We quickly discussed how to launch the attack. The group was only four hundred paces ahead, and we could catch them by cutting across a small field that the main road rounded. The guardsman suggested this approach to strike unexpectedly. I agreed with the plan and was the first to urge my horse forward—but once again, fate cruelly shattered all my hopes."

"The escort, seeing five horsemen riding towards them, inferred that it was for the purpose of attacking them. They put themselves in a position of defence, preparing their bayonets and guns with an air of resolution.

"The escort, seeing five horsemen approaching, assumed they were coming to attack. They got ready to defend themselves, preparing their bayonets and guns with a determined attitude."

"This demonstration, which in the guardsman and myself only inspired fresh courage, had a very different effect upon our three cowardly companions. They stopped simultaneously, and having muttered to each other some words which I could not hear, they turned their horses' heads, threw the bridles on their necks, and galloped back towards Paris.

"This demonstration, which only gave the guardsman and me a boost of courage, had a completely different effect on our three cowardly companions. They all stopped at the same time, exchanged some words that I couldn't hear, then turned their horses around, dropped the reins to their necks, and raced back towards Paris."

"'Good heavens!' said the guardsman, who appeared as much annoyed as I was by this infamous desertion, 'what is to be done? we are but two now.'

"'Good heavens!' said the guardsman, who seemed as annoyed as I was by this outrageous desertion, 'what are we going to do? It's just the two of us now.'"

"From rage and consternation I had lost all power of speech. I doubted whether my first revenge should not be in pursuing the cowards who had abandoned me. I saw them flying, and looked in the other direction at the escort: if it had been possible to divide myself, I should at once have fallen upon both these objects of my fury; I should have destroyed all at the same moment.

"From anger and frustration, I had completely lost my ability to speak. I wondered if my first act of revenge should be going after the cowards who had left me behind. I saw them running away, and then glanced in the other direction at the escort: if I could have split myself in two, I would have attacked both sources of my rage at the same time; I would have taken them all out in one go."

"The guardsman, who saw my irresolution by my wandering gaze, begged of me to hear his advice. 'Being but two,' he said, 'it would be madness to attack six men as well armed as ourselves, and who seem determined to receive us firmly. Let us return to Paris, and endeavour to succeed better in the choice of our comrades. The police cannot make very rapid progress with two heavy vans; we may overtake them tomorrow without difficulty.'

"The guard, noticing my hesitation from my distracted look, urged me to listen to his advice. 'Since it's just the two of us,' he said, 'it would be crazy to take on six well-armed men who seem ready to fight back. Let's head back to Paris and try to find better allies. The police won't be able to move quickly with two heavy vans; we can easily catch up to them tomorrow.'

"I reflected a moment on this suggestion; but seeing nothing around me but despair, I took a final and indeed desperate resolution: this was to thank my companion for his services, and, far from attacking the police, to go up with submission and implore them to receive me among them, that I might accompany Manon to Havre-de-Grace, and afterwards, if possible, cross the Atlantic with her. 'The whole world is either persecuting or betraying me,' said I to the guardsman; 'I have no longer the power of interesting anyone in my favour; I expect nothing more either from fortune or the friendship of man; my misery is at its height; it only remains for me to submit, so that I close my eyes henceforward against every gleam of hope. May Heaven,' I continued, 'reward you for your generosity! Adieu! I shall go and aid my wretched destiny in filling up the full measure of my ruin!' He, in vain, endeavoured to persuade me to return with him to Paris. I entreated him to leave me at once, lest the police should still suspect us of an intention to attack them."

"I thought for a moment about this suggestion; but seeing nothing around me except despair, I made a final and truly desperate decision: to thank my companion for his help and, instead of going after the police, to go up to them humbly and ask to be allowed to join them so that I could accompany Manon to Havre-de-Grace, and later, if possible, cross the Atlantic with her. 'The whole world is either chasing or betraying me,' I said to the guard; 'I no longer have the power to get anyone to help me; I expect nothing more from luck or from the friendship of others; my misery is at its peak; all I can do now is submit, closing my eyes to any glimmer of hope. May Heaven,' I added, 'reward you for your kindness! Goodbye! I’ll go and help my miserable fate completely ruin me!' He tried in vain to convince me to come back with him to Paris. I pleaded with him to leave me immediately, fearing that the police might still suspect us of having plans to attack them."




XII


The pauses and intermissions of pain become positive pleasures; and have thus a power of shedding a satisfaction over the intervals of ease, which few enjoyments exceed.—PALEY.

The breaks and moments of pain turn into real pleasures; they have a way of bringing satisfaction to the times of ease that few joys can match.—PALEY.


"Riding towards the cortege at a slow pace, and with a sorrowful countenance, the guards could hardly see anything very terrific in my approach. They seemed, however, to expect an attack. 'Be persuaded, gentlemen,' said I to them, 'that I come not to wage war, but rather to ask favours.' I then begged of them to continue their progress without any distrust, and as we went along I made my solicitations. They consulted together to ascertain in what way they should entertain my request. The chief of them spoke for the rest. He said that the orders they had received to watch the prisoners vigilantly were of the strictest kind; that, however, I seemed so interesting a young man, that they might be induced to relax a little in their duty; but that I must know, of course, that this would cost me something. I had about sixteen pistoles left, and candidly told them what my purse contained. 'Well,' said the gendarme, 'we will act generously. It shall only cost you a crown an hour for conversing with any of our girls that you may prefer— that is the ordinary price in Paris.'

Riding slowly toward the procession, with a sorrowful expression, the guards didn't seem too alarmed by my approach. However, they did appear to be on guard for an attack. "Gentlemen," I said to them, "please understand that I’m not here to fight, but rather to ask for favors." I then requested that they continue on without any suspicion, and as we moved forward, I made my pleas. They huddled together to discuss how to handle my request. The leader spoke for the group. He said that they had received strict orders to keep a close watch on the prisoners, but since I appeared to be an interesting young man, they might be willing to ease up a bit on their duties; however, I needed to know that this would come at a cost. I had about sixteen pistoles left, and I honestly told them how much I had in my pocket. "Well," said the gendarme, "we'll be generous. It will only cost you a crown an hour to talk to any of our girls that you like—that’s the standard rate in Paris."

"I said not a word of Manon, because I did not wish to let them know of my passion. They at first supposed it was merely a boyish whim, that made me think of amusing myself with these creatures: but when they discovered that I was in love, they increased their demands in such a way, that my purse was completely empty on leaving Mantes, where we had slept the night before our arrival at Passy.

"I didn’t say anything about Manon because I didn’t want them to know about my feelings. At first, they thought it was just a childish fancy that had me entertaining myself with these girls. But when they found out I was in love, they hiked up their demands so much that my wallet was completely empty by the time we left Mantes, where we had spent the night before arriving at Passy."

"Shall I describe to you my heart-rending interviews with Manon during this journey, and what my sensations were when I obtained from the guards permission to approach her caravan? Oh! language never can adequately express the sentiments of the heart; but picture to yourself my poor mistress, with a chain round her waist, seated upon a handful of straw, her head resting languidly against the panel of the carriage, her face pale and bathed with tears, which forced a passage between her eyelids, although she kept them continually closed. She had not even the curiosity to open her eyes on hearing the bustle of the guards when they expected our attack. Her clothes were soiled, and in disorder; her delicate hands exposed to the rough air; in fine, her whole angelic form, that face, lovely enough to carry back the world to idolatry, presented a spectacle of distress and anguish utterly indescribable.

"Should I tell you about my heartbreaking meetings with Manon during this journey and how I felt when I got the guards' permission to go near her caravan? Oh! Words can never fully capture the feelings of the heart; but imagine my poor mistress, with a chain around her waist, sitting on a pile of straw, her head leaning wearily against the side of the carriage, her face pale and soaked with tears that forced their way between her closed eyelids. She didn’t even have the curiosity to open her eyes when she heard the guards stirring in anticipation of our attack. Her clothes were dirty and messy; her delicate hands were exposed to the harsh air; in short, her entire angelic figure, that face beautiful enough to inspire adoration, displayed a scene of distress and agony that was utterly beyond words."

"I spent some moments gazing at her as I rode alongside the carriage. I had so lost my self-possession, that I was several times on the point of falling from my horse. My sighs and frequent exclamations at length attracted her attention. She looked at and recognised me, and I remarked that on the first impulse, she unconsciously tried to leap from the carriage towards me, but being checked by her chain, she fell into her former attitude.

I spent some time staring at her as I rode next to the carriage. I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost fell off my horse several times. My sighs and frequent exclamations eventually caught her attention. She looked at me and recognized me, and I noticed that, instinctively, she tried to jump out of the carriage toward me, but when her chain held her back, she settled back into her original position.

"I begged of the guards to stop one moment for the sake of mercy; they consented for the sake of avarice. I dismounted to go and sit near her. She was so languid and feeble, that she was for some time without the power of speech, and could not raise her hands: I bathed them with my tears; and being myself unable to utter a word, we formed together as deplorable a picture of distress as could well be seen. When at length we were able to speak, our conversation was not less sorrowful. Manon said little: shame and grief appeared to have altered the character of her voice; its tone was feeble and tremulous.

I begged the guards to stop for just a moment out of mercy; they agreed out of greed. I got off my horse to sit beside her. She was so weak and tired that for a while she couldn’t speak and couldn’t lift her hands. I soaked them with my tears, and since I couldn’t say anything either, we made a heartbreaking scene of distress together. When we finally could speak, our conversation was just as sad. Manon said very little; shame and sorrow seemed to have changed the quality of her voice; it was weak and shaky.

"She thanked me for not having forgotten her, and for the comfort I gave her in allowing her to see me once more, and she then bade me a long and last farewell. But when I assured her that no power on earth could ever separate me from her, and that I was resolved to follow her to the extremity of the world—to watch over her—to guard her—to love her—and inseparably to unite my wretched destiny with hers, the poor girl gave way to such feelings of tenderness and grief, that I almost dreaded danger to her life from the violence of her emotion: the agitation of her whole soul seemed intensely concentrated in her eyes; she fixed them steadfastly upon me. She more than once opened her lips without the power of giving utterance to her thoughts. I could, however, catch some expressions that dropped from her, of admiration and wonder at my excessive love—of doubt that she could have been fortunate enough to inspire me with a passion so perfect—of earnest entreaty that I would abandon my intention of following her, and seek elsewhere a lot more worthy of me, and which, she said, I could never hope to find with her.

"She thanked me for not forgetting her and for the comfort I brought by allowing her to see me one last time, then she said a long, final goodbye. But when I promised her that nothing could ever separate us and that I was determined to follow her to the ends of the earth—to watch over her, guard her, love her, and forever tie my unfortunate fate to hers—the poor girl was overcome with such feelings of tenderness and sadness that I almost feared for her life because of how intense her emotions were. The turmoil of her entire soul seemed to focus in her eyes as she looked at me. She opened her mouth several times but couldn't find the words to express her thoughts. However, I could catch some phrases that slipped out, filled with admiration and astonishment at my deep love—doubt that she could be lucky enough to inspire such perfect passion in me—along with sincere pleas for me to give up my plan to follow her and to seek a better path elsewhere, which, she said, I could never hope to find with her."

"In spite of the cruellest inflictions of Fate, I derived comfort from her looks, and from the conviction that I now possessed her undivided affection. I had in truth lost all that other men value; but I was the master of Manon's heart, the only possession that I prized. Whether in Europe or in America, of what moment to me was the place of my abode, provided I might live happy in the society of my mistress? Is not the universe the residence of two fond and faithful lovers? Does not each find in the other, father, mother, friends, relations, riches, felicity?

"In spite of the harshest challenges life threw my way, I found solace in her gaze and the belief that I had her complete love. I had truly lost everything else that other people value, but I was the one who held Manon's heart, the only treasure I cared about. Whether in Europe or America, what did it matter where I lived, as long as I could be happy with my girlfriend? Isn't the entire world home to two loving and devoted partners? Don't they find in each other a mother, a father, friends, family, wealth, and happiness?"

"If anything caused me uneasiness, it was the fear of seeing Manon exposed to want. I fancied myself already with her in a barbarous country, inhabited by savages. 'I am quite certain,' said I, 'there will be none there more cruel than G—— M—— and my father. They will, at least, allow us to live in peace. If the accounts we read of savages be true, they obey the laws of nature: they neither know the mean rapacity of avarice, nor the false and fantastic notions of dignity, which have raised me up an enemy in my own father. They will not harass and persecute two lovers, when they see us adopt their own simple habits.' I was therefore at ease upon that point.

"If anything made me uneasy, it was the fear of seeing Manon in need. I could already picture us in a harsh land full of savages. 'I'm sure,' I said, 'there won't be any there as cruel as G—— M—— and my father. At least they'll let us live in peace. If the stories we've heard about savages are true, they follow the laws of nature: they don't know the greedy grasp of greed or the false and absurd ideas of dignity that have turned my own father into my enemy. They won't trouble us or chase us away when they see us embracing their simple way of life.' So, I felt relieved about that."

"But my romantic ideas were not formed with a proper view to the ordinary wants of life. I had too often found that there were necessaries which could not be dispensed with, particularly by a young and delicate woman, accustomed to comfort and abundance. I was in despair at having so fruitlessly emptied my purse, and the little money that now remained was about being forced from me by the rascally imposition of the gendarmes. I imagined that a very trifling sum would suffice for our support for some time in America, where money was scarce, and might also enable me to form some undertaking there for our permanent establishment.

"But my romantic ideas weren’t realistic enough to consider the basic needs of life. I had too often discovered that there were essentials that couldn’t be overlooked, especially for a young and fragile woman used to comfort and plenty. I was in despair after having so fruitlessly drained my purse, and the little money I had left was about to be taken from me by the sneaky tricks of the police. I thought that a very small amount would be enough for our support for a while in America, where money was tight, and it might also allow me to start some venture there for our long-term stability."

"This idea made me resolve on writing to Tiberge, whom I had ever found ready to hold out the generous hand of friendship. I wrote from the first town we passed through. I only alluded to the destitute condition in which I foresaw that I should find myself on arriving at Havre-de-Grace, to which place I acknowledged that I was accompanying Manon. I asked him for only fifty pistoles. 'You can remit it to me,' said I to him, 'through the hands of the postmaster. You must perceive that it is the last time I can by possibility trespass on your friendly kindness; and my poor unhappy mistress being about to be exiled from her country for ever, I cannot let her depart without supplying her with some few comforts, to soften the sufferings of her lot, as well as to assuage my own sorrows.'

"This idea made me decide to write to Tiberge, who I had always found ready to offer a helping hand. I wrote from the first town we passed through. I only mentioned the desperate situation I expected to find myself in when I arrived at Havre-de-Grace, which I acknowledged I was going to with Manon. I asked him for just fifty pistoles. 'You can send it to me,' I said, 'through the postmaster. You must see that this is the last time I can possibly rely on your kindness; and since my poor, unhappy mistress is about to be exiled from her country forever, I can't let her leave without providing her with a few comforts to ease her suffering and to ease my own sorrows.'"

"The gendarmes became so rapacious when they saw the violence of my passion, continually increasing their demands for the slightest favours, that they soon left me penniless. Love did not permit me to put any bounds to my liberality. At Manon's side I was not master of myself; and it was no longer by the hour that time was measured; rather by the duration of whole days. At length, my funds being completely exhausted, I found myself exposed to the brutal caprice of these six wretches who treated me with intolerable rudeness—you yourself witnessed it at Passy. My meeting with you was a momentary relaxation accorded me by fate. Your compassion at the sight of my sufferings was my only recommendation to your generous nature. The assistance which you so liberally extended, enabled me to reach Havre, and the guards kept their promise more faithfully than I had ventured to hope.

"The police became so greedy when they saw how intense my passion was, constantly raising their demands for even the smallest favors, that I quickly ran out of money. Love didn't let me set any limits on my generosity. Next to Manon, I was no longer in control of myself; time was no longer measured by hours but by entire days. Eventually, with my funds completely drained, I found myself at the mercy of these six wretches who treated me with unbearable rudeness—you saw it yourself at Passy. Meeting you was a brief reprieve granted to me by fate. Your compassion for my suffering was my only appeal to your kind nature. The help you so generously offered allowed me to reach Havre, and the guards kept their promise more faithfully than I had dared to hope."

"We arrived at Havre. I went to the post-office: Tiberge had not yet had time to answer my letter. I ascertained the earliest day I might reckon upon his answer: it could not possibly arrive for two days longer; and by an extraordinary fatality, our vessel was to sail on the very morning of the day when the letter might be expected. I cannot give you an idea of my despair. 'Alas!' cried I, 'even amongst the unfortunate, I am to be ever the most wretched!'

"We arrived in Havre. I went to the post office: Tiberge hadn’t had time to reply to my letter yet. I found out the earliest day I could expect his answer: it wouldn’t arrive for at least two more days; and by some extraordinary misfortune, our ship was set to leave on the very morning the letter might be expected. I can’t express how despairing I felt. 'Oh no!' I exclaimed, 'even among the unfortunate, I must always be the most miserable!'"

"Manon replied: 'Alas! does a life so thoroughly miserable deserve the care we bestow on ours? Let us die at Havre, dearest chevalier! Let death at once put an end to our afflictions! Shall we persevere, and go to drag on this hopeless existence in an unknown land, where we shall, no doubt, have to encounter the most horrible pains, since it has been their object to punish me by exile? Let us die,' she repeated, 'or do at least in mercy rid me of life, and then you can seek another lot in the arms of some happier lover.'

"Manon replied: 'Oh no! Does a life this miserable really deserve the effort we put into ours? Let’s end it all in Havre, my dearest chevalier! Let death put a stop to our suffering right now! Should we keep going and drag out this bleak existence in an unfamiliar place, where we’ll surely face the worst kinds of pain, since they’ve chosen to punish me with exile? Let’s die,' she said again, 'or at least be merciful and take my life, so you can find happiness with someone else.'”

"'No, no, Manon,' said I; 'it is but too enviable a lot, in my estimation, to be allowed to share your misfortunes.'

"'No, no, Manon,' I said; 'I actually think it's quite enviable to be allowed to share your hardships.'"

"Her observations made me tremble. I saw that she was overpowered by her afflictions. I tried to assume a more tranquil air, in order to dissipate such melancholy thoughts of death and despair.

"Her observations made me shake. I could see that she was overwhelmed by her struggles. I tried to act more calm to chase away those sad thoughts of death and despair."

"I resolved to adopt the same course in future; and I learned by the results, that nothing is more calculated to inspire a woman with courage than the demonstration of intrepidity in the man she loves.

"I decided to follow the same path moving forward; and I learned from experience that nothing inspires a woman with courage more than seeing bravery in the man she loves."

"When I lost all hope of receiving the expected assistance from Tiberge, I sold my horse; the money it brought, joined to what remained of your generous gift, amounted to the small sum of forty pistoles; I expended eight in the purchase of some necessary articles for Manon; and I put the remainder by, as the capital upon which we were to rest our hopes and raise our fortunes in America. I had no difficulty in getting admitted on board the vessel. They were at the time looking for young men as voluntary emigrants to the colony. The passage and provisions were supplied gratis. I left a letter for Tiberge, which was to go by the post next morning to Paris. It was no doubt written in a tone calculated to affect him deeply, since it induced him to form a resolution, which could only be carried into execution by the tenderest and most generous sympathy for his unhappy friend.

"When I lost all hope of getting the help I expected from Tiberge, I sold my horse. The money from the sale, combined with what was left of your generous gift, totaled a modest amount of forty pistoles. I spent eight on some necessary items for Manon and saved the rest as the capital on which we would build our hopes and fortunes in America. I had no trouble getting on board the ship. They were looking for young men to volunteer as emigrants to the colony at that time. The passage and supplies were provided for free. I left a letter for Tiberge, which was set to go by post to Paris the next morning. It was definitely written in a tone meant to deeply affect him, as it prompted him to make a decision that could only come from the kindest and most generous compassion for his troubled friend."




XIII


Sunt hie etiam sua proemia laudi,
Sunt lachrymae rerum, et mentem mortalia tangunt.
         VIRGIL.

Sunt hie etiam sua proemia laudi,
Sunt lachrymae rerum, et mentem mortalia tangunt.
         VIRGIL.

E'en the mute walls relate the victim's fame.
And sinner's tears the good man's pity claim.
         DRYDEN.

Even the silent walls tell the story of the victim's fame.
And the sinner's tears demand the good man's compassion.
DRYDEN.


"We set sail; the wind continued favourable during the entire passage. I obtained from the captain's kindness a separate cabin for the use of Manon and myself. He was so good as to distinguish us from the herd of our miserable associates. I took an opportunity, on the second day, of conciliating his attentions, by telling him part of our unfortunate history. I did not feel that I was guilty of any very culpable falsehood in saying that I was the husband of Manon. He appeared to believe it, and promised me his protection; and indeed we experienced, during the whole passage, the most flattering evidences of his sincerity. He took care that our table was comfortably provided; and his attentions procured us the marked respect of our companions in misery. The unwearied object of my solicitude was to save Manon from every inconvenience. She felt this, and her gratitude, together with a lively sense of the singular position in which I had placed myself solely for her sake, rendered the dear creature so tender and impassioned, so attentive also to my most trifling wants, that it was between us a continual emulation of attentions and of love. I felt no regret at quitting Europe; on the contrary, the nearer we approached America, the more did I feel my heart expand and become tranquil. If I had not felt a dread of our perhaps wanting, by and by, the absolute necessaries of life, I should have been grateful to fate for having at length given so favourable a turn to our affairs.

We set sail, and the wind stayed favorable throughout the journey. The captain kindly arranged for a separate cabin for Manon and me. He made an effort to distinguish us from our group of unfortunate companions. On the second day, I took the chance to win his favor by sharing part of our sad story. I didn’t think it was wrong to say that I was Manon’s husband. He seemed to believe me and promised to protect us; indeed, we experienced many signs of his sincerity throughout the entire trip. He made sure our meals were comfortable, and his attentiveness earned us respect from our fellow unfortunate travelers. My main focus was to shield Manon from any discomfort. She noticed this, and her gratitude, combined with an awareness of the unusual situation I had put myself in for her sake, made her so affectionate and passionate. She was also attentive to even my slightest needs, creating a constant exchange of care and love between us. I had no regrets about leaving Europe; on the contrary, the closer we got to America, the more my heart felt open and at ease. If I hadn’t been worried about possibly lacking basic necessities later on, I would have been grateful to fate for finally turning our situation around.

"'After a passage of two months, we at length reached the banks of the desired river. The country offered at first sight nothing agreeable. We saw only sterile and uninhabited plains, covered with rushes, and some trees rooted up by the wind. No trace either of men or animals. However, the captain having discharged some pieces of artillery, we presently observed a group of the inhabitants of New Orleans, who approached us with evident signs of joy. We had not perceived the town: it is concealed upon the side on which we approached it by a hill. We were received as persons dropped from the clouds.

"After two months, we finally arrived at the banks of the river we had been looking for. At first glance, the landscape was unwelcoming. All we could see were barren and empty plains, covered with reeds, and a few trees that had been uprooted by the wind. There was no sign of people or animals. However, after the captain fired some artillery, we soon spotted a group of locals from New Orleans who came toward us, clearly excited. We hadn’t noticed the town before; it was hidden from our approach by a hill. We were welcomed like we had just fallen from the sky."

"The poor inhabitants hastened to put a thousand questions to us upon the state of France, and of the different provinces in which they were born. They embraced us as brothers, and as beloved companions, who had come to share their pains and their solitude.

"The poor inhabitants rushed to ask us a thousand questions about the state of France and the different provinces where they were born. They embraced us like brothers and beloved friends who had come to share their struggles and loneliness."

"We turned towards the town with them; but we were astonished to perceive, as we advanced, that what we had hitherto heard spoken of as a respectable town, was nothing more than a collection of miserable huts. They were inhabited by five or six hundred persons. The governor's house was a little distinguished from the rest by its height and its position. It was surrounded by some earthen ramparts, and a deep ditch.

"We walked towards the town with them, but we were shocked to see, as we got closer, that what we had always heard referred to as a respectable town was really just a bunch of rundown huts. They were home to about five or six hundred people. The governor's house stood out a bit from the others because of its height and location. It was surrounded by some earthen walls and a deep ditch."

"We were first presented to him. He continued for some time in conversation with the captain; and then advancing towards us, he looked attentively at the women one after another: there were thirty of them, for another troop of convicts had joined us at Havre. After having thus inspected them, he sent for several young men of the colony who were desirous to marry. He assigned the handsomest women to the principal of these, and the remainder were disposed of by lot. He had not yet addressed Manon; but having ordered the others to depart, he made us remain. 'I learn from the captain,' said he, 'that you are married, and he is convinced by your conduct on the passage that you are both persons of merit and of education. I have nothing to do with the cause of your misfortunes; but if it be true that you are as conversant with the world and society as your appearance would indicate, I shall spare no pains to soften the severity of your lot, and you may on your part contribute towards rendering this savage and desert abode less disagreeable to me.' I replied in the manner which I thought best calculated to confirm the opinion he had formed of us. He gave orders to have a habitation prepared for us in the town, and detained us to supper. I was really surprised to find so much politeness in a governor of transported convicts. In the presence of others he abstained from enquiring about our past adventures. The conversation was general; and in spite of our degradation, Manon and I exerted ourselves to make it lively and agreeable.

"We were introduced to him first. He talked for a while with the captain, and then he came over to us and looked carefully at the women one by one. There were thirty of them, since another group of convicts had joined us in Havre. After inspecting them, he called for several young men from the colony who wanted to marry. He assigned the prettiest women to the most prominent of them, and the rest were given out by drawing lots. He hadn’t yet spoken to Manon; but after sending the others away, he made us stay. 'The captain tells me,' he said, 'that you are married, and he believes from your behavior during the journey that you are both respectable and educated people. I have nothing to do with the reasons for your misfortunes; but if it’s true that you are as familiar with the world and society as your appearance suggests, I will do everything I can to make your life here easier, and you can help make this wild and desolate place less unpleasant for me.' I responded in a way that I thought would reinforce his positive impression of us. He ordered a house to be prepared for us in the town and invited us to stay for dinner. I was genuinely surprised by how polite a governor of convicts could be. In front of others, he didn’t ask about our past experiences. The conversation was light, and despite our situation, Manon and I made an effort to keep it lively and enjoyable."

"At night we were conducted to the lodging prepared for us. We found a wretched hovel composed of planks and mud, containing three rooms on the ground, and a loft overhead. He had sent there six chairs, and some few necessaries of life.

"At night, we were taken to the place where we would stay. We found a miserable shack made of planks and mud, with three rooms on the ground and a loft above. He had sent six chairs and a few basic supplies."

"Manon appeared frightened by the first view of this melancholy dwelling. It was on my account much more than upon her own, that she distressed herself. When we were left to ourselves, she sat down and wept bitterly. I attempted at first to console her; but when she enabled me to understand that it was for my sake she deplored our privations, and that in our common afflictions she only considered me as the sufferer, I put on an air of resolution, and even of content, sufficient to encourage her.

Manon looked scared at the first sight of this gloomy house. She was upset much more for my sake than her own. When we were alone, she sat down and cried hard. I tried to comfort her at first, but when she made it clear that she was grieving for our hardships because of me, and that in our shared struggles she only saw me as the one suffering, I pretended to be strong and even a bit upbeat to encourage her.

"'What is there in my lot to lament?' said I; 'I possess all that I have ever desired. You love me, Manon, do you not? What happiness beyond this have I ever longed for? Let us leave to Providence the direction of our destiny; it by no means appears to me so desperate. The governor is civil and obliging; he has already given us marks of his consideration; he will not allow us to want for necessaries. As to our rude hut and the squalidness of our furniture, you might have noticed that there are few persons in the colony better lodged or more comfortably furnished than we are: and then you are an admirable chemist,' added I, embracing her; 'you transform everything into gold.'

"'What do I have to complain about?' I said. 'I have everything I've ever wanted. You love me, Manon, right? What more happiness could I wish for? Let’s leave our fate in the hands of Providence; it doesn’t seem so hopeless to me. The governor is polite and helpful; he has already shown us kindness; he won’t let us go without the basics. As for our shabby hut and our run-down furniture, you might have noticed that few people in the colony live better or more comfortably than we do: and you, my dear, are a fantastic chemist,' I added, wrapping my arms around her; 'you can turn anything into gold.'

"'In that case,' she answered, 'you shall be the richest man in the universe; for, as there never was love surpassing yours, so it is impossible for man to be loved more tenderly than you are by me. I well know,' she continued, 'that I have never merited the almost incredible fidelity and attachment which you have shown for me. I have often caused you annoyances, which nothing but excessive fondness could have induced you to pardon. I have been thoughtless and volatile; and even while loving you as I have always done to distraction, I was never free from a consciousness of ingratitude. But you cannot believe how much my nature is altered; those tears which you have so frequently seen me shed since quitting the French shore, have not been caused by my own misfortunes. Since you began to share them with me, I have been a stranger to selfishness: I only wept from tenderness and compassion for you. I am inconsolable at the thought of having given you one instant's pain during my past life. I never cease upbraiding myself with my former inconstancy, and wondering at the sacrifices which love has induced you to make for a miserable and unworthy wretch, who could not, with the last drop of her blood, compensate for half the torments she has caused you.'

"In that case," she replied, "you'll be the richest man in the universe; because just as there’s never been love greater than yours, it's impossible for anyone to be loved more tenderly than I love you. I know well," she continued, "that I haven’t deserved the incredible loyalty and devotion you’ve shown me. I've often annoyed you in ways that only immense love could have made you forgive. I've been thoughtless and unpredictable; and even while loving you obsessively, I've always felt guilty. But you wouldn’t believe how much I've changed; those tears you've seen me shed since we left the French shore haven’t been about my own troubles. Since you began to share in them, I’ve stopped being selfish: I only cried out of love and compassion for you. I can’t bear the thought of having caused you even a moment of pain in my past. I’m constantly scolding myself for my previous inconsistency and amazed by the sacrifices love has made you endure for a miserable and unworthy person, who couldn’t, even with the last drop of her blood, make up for half the anguish she's caused you."

"Her grief, the language, and the tone in which she expressed herself, made such an impression, that I felt my heart ready to break in me. 'Take care,' said I to her, 'take care, dear Manon; I have not strength to endure such exciting marks of your affection; I am little accustomed to the rapturous sensations which you now kindle in my heart. Oh Heaven!' cried I, 'I have now nothing further to ask of you. I am sure of Manon's love. That has been alone wanting to complete my happiness; I can now never cease to be happy: my felicity is well secured.'

"Her grief, the way she spoke, and her tone left such a mark on me that I felt like my heart was about to break. 'Be careful,' I said to her, 'be careful, dear Manon; I can't handle such overwhelming signs of your affection; I'm not used to the intense feelings you’re igniting in my heart. Oh Heaven!' I cried, 'I have nothing more to ask of you. I know Manon loves me. That was the only thing I needed to complete my happiness; I can never stop being happy now: my joy is guaranteed.'

"'It is indeed,' she replied, 'if it depends upon me, and I well know where I can be ever certain of finding my own happiness centred.'

"It definitely is," she replied, "if it relies on me, and I know exactly where I can always find my happiness centered."

"With these ideas, capable of turning my hut into a palace worthy of earth's proudest monarch, I lay down to rest. America appeared to my view the true land of milk and honey, the abode of contentment and delight. 'People should come to New Orleans,' I often said to Manon, 'who wish to enjoy the real rapture of love! It is here that love is divested of all selfishness, all jealousy, all inconstancy. Our countrymen come here in search of gold; they little think that we have discovered treasures of inestimably greater value.'

"With these ideas, capable of turning my hut into a palace worthy of the proudest monarch on earth, I lay down to rest. America seemed to me the true land of milk and honey, the place of contentment and joy. 'People should come to New Orleans,' I often told Manon, 'if they want to experience the true bliss of love! Here, love is free from selfishness, jealousy, and inconsistency. Our fellow countrymen come here searching for gold; they hardly realize that we have found treasures of far greater value.'"

"We carefully cultivated the governor's friendship. He bestowed upon me, a few weeks after our arrival, a small appointment which became vacant in the fort. Although not one of any distinction, I gratefully accepted it as a gift of Providence, as it enabled me to live independently of others' aid. I took a servant for myself, and a woman for Manon. Our little establishment became settled: nothing could surpass the regularity of my conduct, or that of Manon; we lost no opportunity of serving or doing an act of kindness to our neighbours. This friendly disposition, and the mildness of our manners, secured us the confidence and affection of the whole colony. We soon became so respected, that we ranked as the principal persons in the town after the governor.

"We carefully built a friendship with the governor. A few weeks after we arrived, he gave me a small position that opened up at the fort. Although it wasn't an important role, I gratefully accepted it as a blessing, as it allowed me to live independently. I hired a servant for myself and a woman for Manon. Our little household settled in: nothing could exceed the regularity of my behavior or Manon's; we seized every chance to help or show kindness to our neighbors. This friendly attitude, combined with our gentle manners, earned us the trust and affection of the entire colony. We quickly became so respected that we were seen as the main figures in town after the governor."

"The simplicity of our habits and occupations, and the perfect innocence in which we lived, revived insensibly our early feelings of devotion. Manon had never been an irreligious girl, and I was far from being one of those reckless libertines who delight in adding impiety and sacrilege to moral depravity: all the disorders of our lives might be fairly ascribed to the natural influences of youth and love. Experience had now begun with us to do the office of age; it produced the same effect upon us as years must have done. Our conversation, which was generally of a serious turn, by degrees engendered a longing for virtuous love. I first proposed this change to Manon. I knew the principles of her heart; she was frank and natural in all her sentiments, qualities which invariably predispose to virtue. I said to her that there was but one thing wanting to complete our happiness: 'it is,' said I, 'to invoke upon our union the benediction of Heaven. We have both of us hearts too sensitive and minds too refined, to continue voluntarily in the wilful violation of so sacred a duty. It signifies nothing our having lived while in France in such a manner, because there it was as impossible for us not to love, as to be united by a legitimate tie: but in America, where we are under no restraint, where we owe no allegiance to the arbitrary distinctions of birth and aristocratic prejudice, where besides we are already supposed to be married, why should we not actually become so—why should we not sanctify our love by the holy ordinances of religion? As for me,' I added, 'I offer nothing new in offering you my hand and my heart; but I am ready to ratify it at the foot of the altar.'

"The simplicity of our daily routines and the complete innocence in which we lived subtly rekindled our early feelings of devotion. Manon had never been an irreligious girl, and I was far from being one of those reckless playboys who take pleasure in adding blasphemy and sacrilege to their moral corruption: all the upheavals in our lives could be reasonably attributed to the natural influences of youth and love. Experience had now begun to serve the role of age for us; it created the same effects as years would have done. Our conversations, which usually had a serious tone, gradually gave rise to a longing for virtuous love. I first suggested this change to Manon. I understood the nature of her heart; she was open and genuine in all her feelings, traits that naturally lean toward virtue. I told her that the only thing missing to complete our happiness was 'to seek the blessing of Heaven upon our union. We both have hearts that are too sensitive and minds that are too refined to continue willingly in the deliberate violation of such a sacred duty. It doesn’t matter that we lived in France in such a way, because there it was as impossible for us not to love as it was to be united by a legitimate bond: but in America, where we have no constraints, where we owe no loyalty to the arbitrary distinctions of birth and class prejudice, and where we are already assumed to be married, why shouldn't we actually become so—why shouldn't we sanctify our love through the holy rites of religion? As for me,' I added, 'I’m not offering anything new when I offer you my hand and heart; but I am ready to confirm it at the altar.'"

"This speech seemed to inspire her with joy. 'Would you believe it,' she replied, 'I have thought of this a thousand times since our arrival in America? The fear of annoying you has kept it shut up in my breast. I felt that I had no pretensions to aspire to the character of your wife.'

"This speech seemed to fill her with happiness. 'Can you believe it,' she said, 'I've thought about this a thousand times since we got to America? The worry of bothering you has kept it inside me. I felt like I had no right to think about being your wife.'"

"'Ah! Manon,' said I, 'you should very soon be a sovereign's consort, if I had been born to the inheritance of a crown. Let us not hesitate; we have no obstacle to impede us: I will this day speak to the governor on the subject, and acknowledge that we have in this particular hitherto deceived him. Let us leave,' added I, 'to vulgar lovers the dread of the indissoluble bonds of marriage;[1] they would not fear them if they were assured, as we are, of the continuance of those of love.' I left Manon enchanted by this resolution.

"'Ah! Manon,' I said, 'you should be a queen soon enough if I was born to inherit a crown. Let’s not wait; there’s nothing holding us back: I’ll talk to the governor today and admit that we've been misleading him about this. Let’s leave,’ I added, ‘the fear of unbreakable marriage bonds to ordinary lovers; they wouldn’t worry about them if they were as sure as we are about our love lasting.’ I left Manon thrilled by this decision."

"I am persuaded that no honest man could disapprove of this intention in my present situation; that is to say, fatally enslaved as I was by a passion which I could not subdue, and visited by compunction and remorse which I ought not to stifle. But will any man charge me with injustice or impiety if I complain of the rigour of Heaven in defeating a design that I could only have formed with the view of conciliating its favour and complying with its decrees? Alas do I say defeated? nay punished as a new crime. I was patiently permitted to go blindly along the high road of vice; and the cruellest chastisements were reserved for the period when I was returning to the paths of virtue. I now fear that I shall have hardly fortitude enough left to recount the most disastrous circumstances that ever occurred to any man.

"I'm convinced that no honest person could disapprove of my intentions given my current situation; that is to say, tragically trapped by a passion I couldn't control, and plagued by guilt and remorse that I shouldn't ignore. But will anyone accuse me of injustice or disrespect if I complain about the harshness of fate for thwarting a plan I only had in mind to win its favor and follow its will? Alas, do I say thwarted? No, I was punished as if I had committed a new crime. I was allowed to wander down the path of vice without restraint; the worst punishments were saved for when I tried to return to the path of virtue. Now I worry that I might not have the strength to recount the most disastrous events that ever happened to any person."

"I waited upon the governor, as I had settled with Manon, to procure his consent to the ceremony of our marriage. I should have avoided speaking to him or to any other person upon the subject, if I had imagined that his chaplain, who was the only minister in the town, would have performed the office for me without his knowledge; but not daring to hope that he would do so privately, I determined to act ingenuously in the matter.

"I went to see the governor, as I had arranged with Manon, to get his approval for our marriage ceremony. I would have preferred not to talk to him or anyone else about it if I had thought his chaplain, the only minister in town, would handle it for me without him knowing. But since I didn't think he would do it privately, I decided to be honest about it."

"The governor had a nephew named Synnelet, of whom he was particularly fond. He was about thirty; brave, but of a headstrong and violent disposition. He was not married. Manon's beauty had struck him on the first day of our arrival; and the numberless opportunities he had of seeing her during the last nine or ten months, had so inflamed his passion, that he was absolutely pining for her in secret. However, as he was convinced in common with his uncle and the whole colony that I was married, he put such a restraint upon his feelings, that they remained generally unnoticed; and he lost no opportunity of showing the most disinterested friendship for me.

"The governor had a nephew named Synnelet, who he was particularly fond of. He was about thirty, brave, but had a bit of a hot temper and was quite headstrong. He wasn't married. Manon's beauty had caught his eye on the first day we arrived, and after seeing her so many times over the last nine or ten months, his passion for her had grown to the point where he was secretly longing for her. However, since he, like his uncle and the rest of the colony, believed that I was married, he kept his feelings in check, so they mostly went unnoticed. He took every chance to show me the most selfless friendship."

"He happened to be with his uncle when I arrived at the government house. I had no reason for keeping my intention a secret from him, so that I explained myself without hesitation in his presence. The governor heard me with his usual kindness. I related to him a part of my history, to which he listened with evident interest; and when I requested his presence at the intended ceremony, he was so generous as to say, that he must be permitted to defray the expenses of the succeeding entertainment. I retired perfectly satisfied.

"He was with his uncle when I arrived at the government house. I had no reason to keep my intentions a secret from him, so I explained myself without hesitation in front of him. The governor listened to me with his usual kindness. I shared part of my story with him, which he listened to with clear interest; and when I asked him to be there for the planned ceremony, he generously offered to cover the costs of the following celebration. I left feeling completely satisfied."

"In an hour after, the chaplain paid me a visit. I thought he was come to prepare me by religious instruction for the sacred ceremony; but, after a cold salutation, he announced to me in two words, that the governor desired I would relinquish all thoughts of such a thing, for that he had other views for Manon.

"In an hour, the chaplain came to see me. I thought he was there to get me ready for the sacred ceremony with some religious guidance; however, after a brief greeting, he told me in two words that the governor wanted me to forget about it entirely, as he had other plans for Manon."

"'Other views for Manon!' said I, as I felt my heart sink within me; 'what views then can they be, chaplain?'

"'Other views for Manon!' I said, feeling my heart sink; 'what views could they be, chaplain?'"

"He replied, that I must be, of course, aware that the governor was absolute master here; that Manon, having been transported from France to the colony, was entirely at his disposal; that, hitherto he had not exercised his right, believing that she was a married woman; but that now, having learned from my own lips that it was not so, he had resolved to assign her to M. Synnelet, who was passionately in love with her.

"He replied that I should certainly know the governor was the absolute authority here; that Manon, having been brought from France to the colony, was completely under his control; that until now he hadn’t taken action, thinking she was married; but now, having heard from me that this wasn’t the case, he had decided to assign her to M. Synnelet, who was deeply in love with her."

"My indignation overcame my prudence. Irritated as I was, I desired the chaplain instantly to quit my house, swearing at the same time that neither governor, Synnelet, nor the whole colony together, should lay hands upon my wife, or mistress, if they chose so to call her.

"My anger got the better of my judgment. Even though I was annoyed, I wanted the chaplain to leave my house right away, swearing that neither the governor, Synnelet, nor the entire colony could touch my wife, or mistress, if that's what they wanted to call her."

"I immediately told Manon of the distressing message I had just received. We conjectured that Synnelet had warped his uncle's mind after my departure, and that it was all the effect of a premeditated design. They were, questionless, the stronger party. We found ourselves in New Orleans, as in the midst of the ocean, separated from the rest of the world by an immense interval of space. In a country perfectly unknown, a desert, or inhabited, if not by brutes, at least by savages quite as ferocious, to what corner could we fly? I was respected in the town, but I could not hope to excite the people in my favour to such a degree as to derive assistance from them proportioned to the impending danger: money was requisite for that purpose, and I was poor. Besides, the success of a popular commotion was uncertain; and if we failed in the attempt, our doom would be inevitably sealed.

"I immediately told Manon about the troubling message I had just received. We speculated that Synnelet had twisted his uncle's mind after I left, and that it was all part of a deliberate plan. They were definitely the stronger side. We found ourselves in New Orleans, like being in the middle of the ocean, separated from the rest of the world by a vast distance. In a totally unfamiliar country, whether deserted or inhabited, if not by animals, at least by savages just as brutal, where could we escape to? I was respected in the town, but I couldn't expect the people to rally in my favor enough to provide help proportional to the looming danger: money was needed for that, and I was broke. Moreover, the success of a public uprising was uncertain; if we failed in the attempt, our fate would be sealed."

"I revolved these thoughts in my mind; I mentioned them in part to Manon; I found new ones, without waiting for her replies; I determined upon one course, and then abandoned that to adopt another; I talked to myself, and answered my own thoughts aloud; at length I sank into a kind of hysterical stupor that I can compare to nothing, because nothing ever equalled it. Manon observed my emotion, and from its violence, judged how imminent was our danger; and, apprehensive more on my account than on her own, the dear girl could not even venture to give expression to her fears.

I kept turning these thoughts over in my head; I shared some of them with Manon; I came up with new ones without waiting for her to respond; I chose one path, then switched to another; I talked to myself and answered my own thoughts out loud; eventually, I fell into a kind of hysterical daze that I can’t compare to anything else, because nothing else felt like it. Manon noticed how upset I was, and from how intense it was, she realized how close we were to danger; worried more about me than herself, the sweet girl couldn’t even bring herself to voice her fears.

"After a multitude of reflections, I resolved to call upon the governor, and appeal to his feelings of honour, to the recollection of my unvarying respect for him, and the marks he had given of his own affection for us both. Manon endeavoured to dissuade me from this attempt: she said, with tears in her eyes, 'You are rushing into the jaws of death; they will murder you—I shall never again see you—I am determined to die before you.' I had great difficulty in persuading her that it was absolutely necessary that I should go, and that she should remain at home. I promised that she should see me again in a few moments. She did not foresee, nor did I, that it was against herself the whole anger of Heaven, and the rabid fury of our enemies, was about to be concentrated.

"After a lot of thinking, I decided to visit the governor and appeal to his sense of honor, reminding him of my constant respect for him and the affection he had shown us both. Manon tried to talk me out of it; with tears in her eyes, she said, 'You’re walking into danger; they’ll kill you—I’ll never see you again—I’m ready to die before you do.' I struggled to convince her that it was crucial for me to go and for her to stay home. I promised she’d see me again in a few moments. Neither of us realized that the full force of Heaven's wrath and the intense anger of our enemies was about to be directed at her."

"I went to the fort: the governor was there with his chaplain. I supplicated him in a tone of humble submission that I could have ill brooked under other circumstances. I invoked his clemency by every argument calculated to soften any heart less ferocious and cruel than a tiger's.

"I went to the fort: the governor was there with his chaplain. I begged him in a tone of humble submission that I could hardly have tolerated in other situations. I called on his mercy using every reason likely to soften any heart less fierce and cruel than a tiger's.

"The barbarian made to all my prayers but two short answers, which he repeated over and over again. 'Manon,' he said, 'was at his disposal: and he had given a promise to his nephew.' I was resolved to command my feelings to the last: I merely replied, that I had imagined he was too sincerely my friend to desire my death, to which I would infinitely rather consent than to the loss of my mistress.

"The barbarian only gave me two brief answers to all my prayers, which he just kept repeating. 'Manon,' he said, 'was at his disposal: and he had promised his nephew.' I was determined to keep my emotions in check: I simply replied that I thought he was too genuinely my friend to want me dead, which I would much rather accept than losing my girlfriend."

"I felt persuaded, on quitting him, that it was folly to expect anything from the obstinate tyrant, who would have damned himself a hundred times over to please his nephew. However, I persevered in restraining my temper to the end; deeply resolved, if they persisted in such flagrant injustice, to make America the scene of one of the most horrible and bloody murders that even love had ever led to.

"I was convinced, as I left him, that it was foolish to expect anything from the stubborn tyrant, who would have ruined himself a hundred times just to satisfy his nephew. Still, I kept my cool until the very end; I was determined, if they continued with such blatant injustice, to turn America into the site of one of the most horrific and bloody murders that love had ever inspired."

"I was, on my return home, meditating upon this design, when fate, as if impatient to expedite my ruin, threw Synnelet in my way. He read in my countenance a portion of my thoughts. I before said, he was brave. He approached me.

"I was on my way home, thinking about this plan, when fate, eager to bring about my downfall, crossed my path with Synnelet. He saw part of my thoughts in my expression. As I mentioned before, he was brave. He came up to me."

"'Are you not seeking me?' he enquired. 'I know that my intentions have given you mortal offence, and that the death of one of us is indispensable: let us see who is to be the happy man.'

"'Aren't you looking for me?' he asked. 'I know my intentions have offended you deeply, and that one of us has to die: let's find out who the lucky one is.'"

"I replied, that such was unquestionably the fact, and that nothing but death could end the difference between us.

"I replied that this was definitely true and that nothing but death could resolve the disagreement between us."

"We retired about one hundred paces out of the town. We drew: I wounded and disarmed him at the first onset. He was so enraged, that he peremptorily refused either to ask his life or renounce his claims to Manon. I might have been perhaps justified in ending both by a single blow; but noble blood ever vindicates its origin. I threw him back his sword. 'Let us renew the struggle,' said I to him, 'and remember that there shall be now no quarter.' He attacked me with redoubled fury. I must confess that I was not an accomplished swordsman, having had but three months' tuition in Paris. Love, however, guided my weapon. Synnelet pierced me through and through the left arm; but I caught him whilst thus engaged, and made so vigorous a thrust that I stretched him senseless at my feet.

"We retired about a hundred steps outside the town. We faced off: I injured and disarmed him right away. He was so furious that he flatly refused to either plead for his life or give up his claim to Manon. I might have been justified in ending both with a single blow; but noble blood always stands up for its roots. I threw his sword back to him. 'Let's continue the fight,' I said, 'and remember that there will be no mercy this time.' He attacked me with renewed rage. I have to admit I wasn't a skilled swordsman, having only had three months of training in Paris. However, love guided my blade. Synnelet stabbed me straight through the left arm; but while he was distracted, I made such a powerful thrust that I left him unconscious at my feet."

"In spite of the triumphant feeling that victory, after a mortal conflict, inspires, I was immediately horrified by the certain consequences of his death. There could not be the slightest hope of either pardon or respite from the vengeance I had thus incurred. Aware, as I was, of the affection of the governor for his nephew, I felt perfectly sure that my death would not be delayed a single hour after his should become known. 'Urgent as this apprehension was, it still was by no means the principal source of my uneasiness. Manon, the welfare of Manon, the peril that impended over her, and the certainty of my being now at length separated from her, afflicted me to such a degree, that I was incapable of recognising the place in which I stood. I regretted Synnelet's death: instant suicide seemed the only remedy for my woes.

"Even though winning after such a deadly fight felt amazing, I was immediately horrified by the inevitable consequences of his death. There was absolutely no hope for either forgiveness or a break from the revenge I had brought upon myself. Knowing how much the governor cared for his nephew, I was certain that my own death would come without delay once his was announced. As urgent as this fear was, it wasn't the main reason for my distress. It was Manon, her well-being, the danger looming over her, and the certainty that I would now be separated from her that troubled me so much that I couldn't even recognize where I was. I regretted Synnelet's death: suicide felt like the only solution to my suffering."

"However, it was this very thought that quickly restored me to my reason, and enabled me to form a resolution. 'What,' said I to myself, 'die, in order to end my pain! Then there is something I dread more than the loss of all I love! No, let me suffer the cruellest extremities in order to aid her; and when these prove of no avail, fly to death as a last resource!'

"However, it was this very thought that quickly brought me back to my senses and helped me make a decision. 'What,' I said to myself, 'die just to stop my pain? Then there's something I fear more than losing everything I love! No, let me endure the worst suffering to help her; and when that fails, I'll turn to death as a last resort!'"

"I returned towards the town; on my arrival at home, I found Manon half dead with fright and anxiety: my presence restored her. I could not conceal from her the terrible accident that had happened. On my mentioning the death of Synnelet and my own wound, she fell in a state of insensibility into my arms. It was a quarter of an hour before I could bring her again to her senses.

"I headed back to town; when I got home, I found Manon nearly overwhelmed with fear and worry: my presence brought her back to life. I couldn’t hide from her the awful accident that had occurred. When I mentioned Synnelet's death and my own injury, she fainted and collapsed into my arms. It took me about fifteen minutes to bring her back to her senses."

"I was myself in a most deplorable state of mind; I could not discern the slightest prospect of safety for either of us. 'Manon,' said I to her, when she had recovered a little, 'what shall we do? Alas, what hope remains to us? I must necessarily fly. Will you remain in the town? Yes dearest Manon, do remain; you may possibly still be happy here; while I, far away from you, may seek death and find it amongst the savages, or the wild beasts.'

"I was in a really terrible state of mind; I couldn't see any chance of safety for either of us. 'Manon,' I said to her, once she had calmed down a bit, 'what should we do? Sadly, what hope do we have left? I have to run away. Will you stay in the town? Yes, my dear Manon, please stay; you might still find some happiness here, while I, far from you, could end up searching for death among the savages or wild animals.'"

"She raised herself in spite of her weakness, and taking hold of my hand to lead me towards the door: 'Let us,' said she, 'fly together, we have not a moment to lose; Synnelet's body may be found by chance, and we shall then have no time to escape.' 'But, dear Manon,' replied I, 'to what place can we fly? Do you perceive any resource? Would it not be better that you should endeavour to live on without me; and that I should go and voluntarily place my life in the governor's hands?'

"She lifted herself up despite her weakness and took my hand to lead me to the door. 'Let’s get out of here together,' she said. 'We don’t have a moment to waste; Synnelet's body might be discovered, and then we won’t have time to escape.' 'But, dear Manon,' I replied, 'where can we go? Do you see any options? Wouldn’t it be better for you to try to survive without me while I go and turn myself in to the governor?'”

"This proposal had only the effect of making her more impatient for our departure. I had presence of mind enough, on going out, to take with me some strong liquors which I had in my chamber, and as much food as I could carry in my pockets. We told our servants, who were in the adjoining room, that we were going to take our evening walk, as was our invariable habit; and we left the town behind us more rapidly than I had thought possible from Manon's delicate state of health.

"This plan only made her more eager for us to leave. I had enough sense, when we went out, to grab some strong drinks I had in my room and as much food as I could fit in my pockets. We told our servants, who were in the next room, that we were going for our evening walk, as was our usual routine; and we left the town behind us faster than I thought possible considering Manon's delicate health."

"Although I had not formed any resolve as to our future destination, I still cherished a hope, without which I should have infinitely preferred death to my suspense about Manon's safety. I had acquired a sufficient knowledge of the country, during nearly ten months which I had now passed in America, to know in what manner the natives should be approached. Death was not the necessary consequence of falling into their hands. I had learned a few words of their language, and some of their customs, having had many opportunities of seeing them.

"Even though I hadn't made any decisions about where we were headed, I still held onto hope; without it, I would have definitely preferred death to the uncertainty about Manon's safety. Over the nearly ten months I had spent in America, I had gained enough knowledge about the area to understand how to interact with the locals. Dying wasn’t necessarily the outcome of being captured by them. I had picked up a few words of their language and some of their customs, thanks to the many chances I’d had to observe them."

"Besides this sad resource, I derived some hopes from the fact, that the English had, like ourselves, established colonies in this part of the New World. But the distance was terrific. In order to reach them, we should have to traverse deserts of many days' journey, and more than one range of mountains so steep and vast as to seem almost impassable to the strongest man. I nevertheless flattered myself that we might derive partial relief from one or other of these sources: the savages might serve us as guides, and the English receive us in their settlements.

"Aside from this unfortunate option, I held onto some hope because the English had, like us, established colonies in this part of the New World. However, the distance was enormous. To reach them, we would have to cross deserts that would take several days to traverse and more than one mountain range so steep and vast that they seemed almost impossible to cross for even the strongest person. Still, I convinced myself that we might find some relief from one of these sources: the Native Americans might act as our guides, and the English could welcome us in their settlements."

"We journeyed on as long as Manon's strength would permit, that is to say, about six miles; for this incomparable creature, with her usual absence of selfishness, refused my repeated entreaties to stop. Overpowered at length by fatigue, she acknowledged the utter impossibility of proceeding farther. It was already night: we sat down in the midst of an extensive plain, where we could not even find a tree to shelter us. Her first care was to dress my wound, which she had bandaged before our departure. I, in vain, entreated her to desist from exertion: it would have only added to her distress if I had refused her the satisfaction of seeing me at ease and out of danger, before her own wants were attended to. I allowed her therefore to gratify herself, and in shame and silence submitted to her delicate attentions.

We kept going as long as Manon could manage, which was about six miles; this amazing person, always so selfless, ignored my repeated pleas to take a break. Eventually, completely worn out, she admitted that it was impossible to go any further. It was already dark: we settled down in a wide open field where we couldn’t even find a tree for shelter. Her first concern was to treat my wound, which she had already bandaged before we left. I tried to convince her to stop pushing herself, but it would have only made her more upset if I didn’t let her take care of me and make sure I was comfortable and safe before focusing on herself. So, I allowed her to take care of me, feeling shame and remaining silent as I accepted her gentle care.

"But when she had completed her tender task, with what ardour did I not enter upon mine! I took off my clothes and stretched them under her, to render more endurable the hard and rugged ground on which she lay. I protected her delicate hands from the cold by my burning kisses and the warmth of my sighs. I passed the livelong night in watching over her as she slept, and praying Heaven to refresh her with soft and undisturbed repose. 'You can bear witness, just and all-seeing God! to the fervour and sincerity of those prayers, and Thou alone knowest with what awful rigour they were rejected.'

"But when she finished her tender task, how passionately did I throw myself into mine! I took off my clothes and laid them beneath her to make the hard and rough ground she lay on a bit more bearable. I kept her delicate hands warm with my heated kisses and the warmth of my sighs. I spent the entire night watching over her as she slept, praying to God to grant her soft and peaceful rest. 'You can bear witness, just and all-seeing God, to the fervor and sincerity of those prayers, and only You know how harshly they were denied.'"

"You will excuse me, if I now cut short a story which it distresses me beyond endurance to relate. It is, I believe, a calamity without parallel. I can never cease to deplore it. But although it continues, of course, deeply and indelibly impressed on my memory, yet my heart seems to shrink within me each time that I attempt the recital.

"You'll forgive me if I now cut short a story that saddens me beyond endurance to tell. I believe it's a disaster without equal. I can never stop regretting it. But even though it remains deeply and permanently engraved in my memory, my heart seems to tighten each time I try to recount it."

"We had thus tranquilly passed the night. I had fondly imagined that my beloved mistress was in a profound sleep, and I hardly dared to breathe lest I should disturb her. As day broke, I observed that her hands were cold and trembling; I pressed them to my bosom in the hope of restoring animation. This movement roused her attention, and making an effort to grasp my hand, she said, in a feeble voice, that she thought her last moments had arrived.

"We had peacefully spent the night. I had hoped that my beloved was fast asleep, and I barely dared to breathe for fear of waking her. As dawn broke, I noticed that her hands were cold and trembling; I held them close to my chest, hoping to bring warmth back to them. This movement caught her attention, and with an effort to hold my hand, she said in a weak voice that she thought her final moments had come."

"I, at first, took this for a passing weakness, or the ordinary language of distress; and I answered with the usual consolations that love prompted. But her incessant sighs, her silence, and inattention to my enquiries, the convulsed grasp of her hands, in which she retained mine, soon convinced me that the crowning end of all my miseries was approaching.

"I initially thought this was just a temporary weakness or the usual expression of distress, so I responded with the typical comforting words that love inspires. But her constant sighing, her silence, and her lack of attention to my questions, along with the tight grip of her hands holding mine, quickly made me realize that the ultimate end of all my suffering was drawing near."

"Do not now expect me to attempt a description of my feelings, or to repeat her dying expressions. I lost her—I received the purest assurances of her love even at the very instant that her spirit fled. I have not nerve to say more upon this fatal and disastrous event.

"Don’t expect me to try to describe my feelings or go over her last words. I lost her—I got the clearest proof of her love right when her spirit left. I don’t have the strength to say more about this tragic and terrible event."

"My spirit was not destined to accompany Manon's. Doubtless, Heaven did not as yet consider me sufficiently punished, and therefore ordained that I should continue to drag on a languid and joyless existence. I willingly renounced every hope of leading a happy one.

"My spirit was not meant to join Manon's. Clearly, Heaven didn't think I had suffered enough yet, so it decided that I should keep living a dull and joyless life. I willingly gave up any hope of having a happy one."

"I remained for twenty-four hours without taking my lips from the still beauteous countenance and hands of my adored Manon. My intention was to await my own death in that position; but at the beginning of the second day, I reflected that, after I was gone, she must of necessity become the prey of wild beasts. I then determined to bury her, and wait my own doom upon her grave. I was already, indeed, so near my end from the combined effect of long fasting and grief, that it was with the greatest difficulty I could support myself standing. I was obliged to have recourse to the liquors which I had brought with me, and these restored sufficient strength to enable me to set about my last sad office. From the sandy nature of the soil there was little trouble in opening the ground. I broke my sword and used it for the purpose; but my bare hands were of greater service. I dug a deep grave, and there deposited the idol of my heart, after having wrapt around her my clothes to prevent the sand from touching her. I kissed her ten thousand times with all the ardour of the most glowing love, before I laid her in this melancholy bed. I sat for some time upon the bank intently gazing on her, and could not command fortitude enough to close the grave over her. At length, feeling that my strength was giving way, and apprehensive of its being entirely exhausted before the completion of my task, I committed to the earth all that it had ever contained most perfect and peerless. I then lay myself with my face down upon the grave, and closing my eyes with the determination never again to open them, I invoked the mercy of Heaven, and ardently prayed for death.

I stayed for twenty-four hours without taking my lips off the still beautiful face and hands of my beloved Manon. My plan was to wait for my own death in that position; but at the beginning of the second day, I realized that once I was gone, she would inevitably become prey to wild animals. I then decided to bury her and await my own fate on her grave. I was already very close to death from the combined effects of prolonged hunger and sorrow that I could barely stand. I had to rely on the drinks I brought with me, and they gave me just enough strength to carry out my final duty. Because the soil was sandy, it wasn't difficult to dig. I broke my sword and used it, but my bare hands were even more useful. I dug a deep grave and placed the idol of my heart there, wrapping my clothes around her to keep the sand from touching her. I kissed her countless times with all the passion of true love before laying her in this sorrowful resting place. I sat on the edge for a while, staring at her, unable to summon the strength to close the grave. Eventually, feeling my strength slipping away and fearing it would run out before I finished, I buried all that had ever been most perfect and unparalleled. Then I lay down with my face against the grave, closed my eyes with the intention of never opening them again, invoked the mercy of Heaven, and fervently prayed for death.

"You will find it difficult to believe that, during the whole time of this protracted and distressing ceremony, not a tear or a sigh escaped to relieve my agony. The state of profound affliction in which I was, and the deep settled resolution I had taken to die, had silenced the sighs of despair, and effectually dried up the ordinary channels of grief. It was thus impossible for me, in this posture upon the grave, to continue for any time in possession of my faculties.

"You will find it hard to believe that, throughout this long and painful ceremony, not a single tear or sigh escaped to ease my suffering. The deep sorrow I was in and my strong decision to die had silenced my cries of despair and completely dried up the usual ways of expressing grief. So it was impossible for me, in this position over the grave, to stay in control of my mind for long."

"After what you have listened to, the remainder of my own history would ill repay the attention you seem inclined to bestow upon it. Synnelet having been carried into the town and skilfully examined, it was found that, so far from being dead, he was not even dangerously wounded. He informed his uncle of the manner in which the affray had occurred between us, and he generously did justice to my conduct on the occasion. I was sent for; and as neither of us could be found, our flight was immediately suspected. It was then too late to attempt to trace me, but the next day and the following one were employed in the pursuit.

"After what you've just heard, the rest of my story probably won't be worth your time. Synnelet was taken into town and examined carefully. It turned out that, far from being dead, he was actually not even seriously hurt. He told his uncle how the fight between us happened and gave me credit for my actions during that time. I was summoned, and since neither of us could be found, they immediately suspected we had run away. By then, it was too late to try to track me down, but the next day and the one after that were spent searching for me."

"I was found, without any appearance of life, upon the grave of Manon: and the persons who discovered me in this situation, seeing that I was almost naked and bleeding from my wounds, naturally supposed that I had been robbed and assassinated. They carried me into the town. The motion restored me to my senses. The sighs I heaved on opening my eyes and finding myself still amongst the living, showed that I was not beyond the reach of art: they were but too successful in its application.

"I was found, with no signs of life, at Manon's grave: and the people who discovered me in this condition, noticing that I was almost naked and bleeding from my wounds, naturally assumed that I had been robbed and killed. They took me into town. The movement brought me back to my senses. The sighs I let out when I opened my eyes and realized I was still among the living indicated that I wasn't beyond help: they were all too effective in their treatment."

"I was immediately confined as a close prisoner. My trial was ordered; and as Manon was not forthcoming, I was accused of having murdered her from rage and jealousy. I naturally related all that had occurred. Synnelet, though bitterly grieved and disappointed by what he heard, had the generosity to solicit my pardon: he obtained it.

"I was quickly locked up as a close prisoner. My trial was set, and since Manon wasn't speaking up, I was accused of murdering her out of anger and jealousy. I naturally explained everything that had happened. Synnelet, though deeply hurt and disappointed by what he heard, generously asked for my forgiveness: he got it."

"I was so reduced, that they were obliged to carry me from the prison to my bed, and there I suffered for three long months under severe illness. My aversion from life knew no diminution. I continually prayed for death, and obstinately for some time refused every remedy. But Providence, after having punished me with atoning rigour, saw fit to turn to my own use its chastisements and the memory of my multiplied sorrows. It at length deigned to shed upon me its redeeming light, and revived in my mind ideas worthy of my birth and my early education.

"I was so weak that they had to carry me from the prison to my bed, where I suffered for three long months with a serious illness. My dislike for life never lessened. I constantly prayed for death and stubbornly refused any treatment for a while. But fate, after punishing me with harsh lessons, decided to turn my suffering and the memories of my many sorrows into something beneficial. Eventually, it chose to shine its redeeming light on me and rekindled thoughts worthy of my background and early education."

"My tranquillity of mind being again restored, my cure speedily followed. I began only to feel the highest aspirations of honour, and diligently performed the duties of my appointment, whilst expecting the arrival of the vessels from France, which were always due at this period of the year. I resolved to return to my native country, there to expiate the scandal of my former life by my future good conduct. Synnelet had the remains of my dear mistress removed into a more hallowed spot.

"My peace of mind returned, and my recovery quickly followed. I started to feel the highest aspirations of honor and diligently carried out my duties while waiting for the ships from France, which were always expected at this time of year. I decided to return to my home country to make up for the shame of my past life with my future good behavior. Synnelet had my dear mistress's remains moved to a more sacred place."

"It was six weeks after my recovery that, one day walking alone upon the banks of the river, I saw a vessel arrive, which some mercantile speculation had directed to New Orleans. I stood by whilst the passengers landed. Judge my surprise on recognising Tiberge amongst those who proceeded towards the town. This ever-faithful friend knew me at a distance, in spite of the ravages which care and sorrow had worked upon my countenance. He told me that the sole object of his voyage had been to see me once more, and to induce me to return with him to France; that on receipt of the last letter which I had written to him from Havre, he started for that place, and was himself the bearer of the succour which I solicited; that he had been sensibly affected on learning my departure, and that he would have instantly followed me, if there had been a vessel bound for the same destination; that he had been for several months endeavouring to hear of one in the various seaport towns, and that, having at length found one at St. Malo which was weighing anchor for Martinique, he embarked, in the expectation of easily passing from thence to New Orleans; that the St. Malo vessel having been captured by Spanish pirates and taken to one of their islands, he had contrived to escape; and that, in short, after many adventures, he had got on board the vessel which had just arrived, and at length happily attained his object.

It was six weeks after I recovered that one day, while walking alone along the riverbank, I saw a ship arrive, sent to New Orleans for some business reason. I stood by as the passengers disembarked. Imagine my surprise when I recognized Tiberge among those heading toward the town. This ever-faithful friend spotted me from a distance, despite how much care and sadness had affected my face. He told me that the main reason for his trip was to see me again and to convince me to return to France with him; that after receiving my last letter from Havre, he set out for that place himself, carrying the help I had requested; that he was deeply moved upon hearing about my departure and would have immediately followed me if there had been a ship going to the same place; that he had been trying for months to find a vessel in various port towns, and finally discovered one in St. Malo preparing to sail for Martinique. He boarded it, expecting to easily get from there to New Orleans; that the St. Malo ship had been captured by Spanish pirates and taken to one of their islands, but he managed to escape; and that, after many adventures, he had finally boarded the ship that had just arrived and successfully achieved his goal.

"I was totally unable adequately to express my feelings of gratitude to this generous and unshaken friend. I conducted him to my house, and placed all I possessed at his service. I related to him every circumstance that had occurred to me since I left France: and in order to gladden him with tidings which I knew he did not expect, I assured him that the seeds of virtue which he had in former days implanted in my heart, were now about to produce fruit, of which even he should be proud. He declared to me, that this gladdening announcement more than repaid him for all the fatigue and trouble he had endured.

"I was completely unable to express how grateful I was to this generous and steadfast friend. I brought him to my house and offered him everything I had. I shared every detail of what had happened to me since I left France. To bring him joy with news I knew he didn’t expect, I assured him that the seeds of virtue he had planted in my heart long ago were now about to bear fruit that even he would be proud of. He told me that this uplifting news more than made up for all the fatigue and trouble he had experienced."

"We passed two months together at New Orleans whilst waiting the departure of a vessel direct to France; and having at length sailed, we landed only a fortnight since at Havre-de-Grace. On my arrival I wrote to my family. By a letter from my elder brother, I there learned my father's death, which, I dread to think, the disorders of my youth might have hastened. The wind being favourable for Calais, I embarked for this port, and am now going to the house of one of my relations who lives a few miles off, where my brother said that he should anxiously await my arrival."

"We spent two months together in New Orleans while waiting for a ship directly to France; and finally, we sailed and landed just two weeks ago in Havre-de-Grace. Upon my arrival, I wrote to my family. In a letter from my older brother, I learned about my father’s death, which I dread to think may have been hastened by the troubles of my youth. With the wind favorable for Calais, I boarded a ship for that port, and I'm now heading to the home of one of my relatives who lives a few miles away, where my brother said he would be anxiously waiting for me."



[1] Some say that Love, at sight of human ties,
     Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.

[1] Some say that Love, upon seeing human connections,
     Spreads his wings and takes off in an instant.






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