I felt that I was imperceptibly drawing closer to Marguerite.It was not long before I had turned the conversation round to her.
'Is the old Duke with your neighbour？'I asked Prudence.
'No，no；she's most likely on her own.'
'But she'll be terribly bored，'said Gaston.
'We usually spend our evenings together or，when she gets home，she calls down to me.She never goes to bed before two in the morning.She can't get to sleep before then.'
'Why not？'
'Because she's got consumption，and she's almost always feverish.'
'Doesn't she have any lovers？'I asked.
I never see anybody staying behind when I leave，but I don't say there's nobody comes after I've gone.When I'm there of an evening，I often come across a certain Count de N who thinks he can get somewhere with her by paying calls at eleven o'clock and sending her all the jewels she could possibly want；but she can't stand the sight of him.She's wrong，he's a very rich young man.I tell her from time to time，not that it does a bit of good：My dear child，he's just the man for you！She listens to me well enough ordinarily，but then she turns her back on me and answers that he is too stupid.He may be stupid，I grant you，but he'd set her up on a good footing，whereas that old Duke could die from one day to the next.Old men are selfish；his family are always on at him about his affection for Marguerite：that makes two reasons why he'll not leave her a penny.I'm forever going on at her about it，but she says that there'll still be time enough to say yes to the Count when the Duke's dead.
'It's not always much fun，'Prudence continued，'living the way she does.I can tell you it wouldn't do for me.I'd send the old relic packing.He's a dull old thing：he calls her his daughter，looks after her like a little child，and is forever hovering round her.I'm pretty sure that even at this time of night one of his servants is hanging about in the street to see who comes out and especially who goes in.'
'Oh，poor Marguerite！'said Gaston，sitting down at the piano and playing a waltz，'I had no idea.Still，I have noticed that she hasn't seemed as jolly for some time now.'
'Hush！'said Prudence，pricking up her ears.
Gaston stopped.
'She's calling me，I think.'
We listened.
And indeed，a voice was calling Prudence.
'Come along，gentlemen，off with you，'Madame Duvernoy told us.
'So that's what you mean by hospitality，'Gaston said laughingly，'we'll be off when it suits us.'
'Why should we go？'
'I'm going to Marguerite's.'
'We'll wait here.'
'I won't have it.'
'In that case，we'll come with you.'
'That's even more out of the question.'
'I know Marguerite，'said Gaston，'it's perfectly all right for me to drop in to pay my respects.'
'But Armand doesn't know her.'
'I shall introduce him.'
'Impossible.'
Once more we heard Marguerite's voice still calling Prudence.
Prudence ran into her dressing-room.I followed with Gaston.She opened the window.
We hid ourselves so that we could not be seen from outside.
'I've been calling you for ten minutes，'said Marguerite from her window in a tone that verged on the peremptory.
'What do you want with me？'
'I want you to come at once.'
'Why？'
'Because Count de N is still here，and he's boring me to death.'
'I can't just now.'
'What's stopping you？'
'I've got two young men here who won't go away.'
'Tell them you've got to go out.'
'I have told them.'
'Well，they can stay there；when they see you've gone，they'll leave.'
'After turning the place upside down？'
'But what do they want？'
'They want to see you.'
'What are their names？'
'You know one of them，Monsieur Gaston R.'
'Ah，yes，I know him；and the other？'
'Monsieur Armand Duval.Don't you know him？'
'No；but bring them all the same.Anything would be better than the Count.I shall be waiting for you，so hurry.'
Marguerite shut her window，and Prudence shut hers.
Marguerite，who had for an instant recalled my face，did not remember my name.I would have been better pleased to be remembered in an unflattering light than forgotten altogether like this.
'I knew it，'said Gaston，'I knew she'd be delighted to see us.'
'Delighted isn't the word，'answered Prudence，putting on her hat and shawl，'she'll see you to make the Count go away.Try to be more agreeable than him，or otherwise-I know Marguerite-she'll take it out on me.'
We followed Prudence down the stairs.
I was shaking；I had a feeling that this visit would have a great influence on my life.
I was even more apprehensive than the evening I had been introduced in the box at the Opera-Comique.
When we arrived at the door of the apartment with which you are acquainted，my heart was beating so loud that I could not think.
A few chords from a piano reached our ears.
Prudence rang the bell.
The piano stopped.
A woman，who looked rather more like a lady's companion than a maid，opened the door to us.
We passed through the drawing-room，and from the drawing-room into the parlour，which was at that time exactly as you have seen it since.
A young man was leaning against the mantelpiece.
Marguerite，seated at the piano，was letting her fingers run over the keys，starting more pieces than she finished.
Everything about the scene exuded boredom which stemmed，on the man's side，from an embarrassing awareness of his own dullness and，on the woman's，from the visit of this lugubrious personage.
Hearing Prudence's voice，Marguerite rose to her feet and，coming up to us after first exchanging a look of gratitude with Madame Duvernoy，she said to us：
'Do come in，gentlemen，you are most welcome.'