'And what does she do with herself？Does she stay in Paris all the time？'
'She's never once wanted to go back to Bougival since the day you left.It was me that went down to fetch all her things，and yours too：I've made a bundle of them that you can send round for.It's all there except for a little pocketbook with your monogram on it.Marguerite wanted to have it，and she's got it with her in the apartment.If you want it particularly，I could ask for it back.'
'She can keep it，'I stammered，for I could feel tears welling up from my heart into my eyes at the memory of the village where I had been so happy，and at the thought that Marguerite should want to keep something that had been mine and reminded her of me.
If she had come into the room at that moment，all my plans for revenge would have collapsed，and I would have fallen at her feet.
'Mind you，'Prudence went on，'I've never seen her the way she is at the minute.She hardly sleeps at all，goes to every ball，eats late suppers and even has too much to drink.Just recently，after a supper party，she was in bed for a week.And when the doctor allowed her up，she started where she'd left off，though she knows it could kill her.Are you going to see her？'
'What's the point？It was you I came to see，because you've always been extremely nice to me，and I knew you before I met Marguerite.It's you I have to thank for having been her lover，just as it's you I must thank for not being her lover any more.Am I right？'
'Well，yes.I did everything I could to make her give you up，and I do believe that，in time，you won't think too badly of me.'
'I owe you a double debt of gratitude，'I added，getting to my feet，'because I was getting sick of her when I saw how seriously she took everything I said：'
'Are you going？'
'Yes.'
I had heard enough.
'When shall we see you again？'
'Soon.Goodbye.'
'Goodbye.'
Prudence saw me to the door，and I returned to my apartment with tears of rage in me eyes and a thirst for revenge in my heart.
So Marguerite was really a whore like the rest of them.So this fathomless love she felt for me had not held out for long against her wish to revert to her old life，and her need to have a carriage and indulge her taste for orgies.
This is what I kept telling myself when I could not sleep，whereas，if I had thought about it as coolly as I made out，I would have seen Marguerite's new，wild behaviour as her hope of silencing persistent thoughts and burying recurring memories.
But，alas，I was ruled by sour resentments，and thought only of finding a way of tormenting the poor creature.
Oh，how small，how vile is man when one of his petty passions is wounded！
Olympe，the girl I had seen with Marguerite，was，if not a close friend，then at least the friend she had seen most of since returning to Paris.She was to throw a ball and，since I assumed Marguerite would be there，I set about getting myself an invitation，and got one.
When I arrived，overflowing with painful emotions，the ball was already in full swing.People were dancing，there was a great deal of shouting and，during one of the quadrilles，I saw Marguerite dancing with Count de N who looked inordinately proud to be showing her off，as though he were declaring to the assembled company：
'This woman belongs to me！'
I went and leaned against the mantelpiece，just across from Marguerite，and watched her dance.She grew flustered almost the moment she noticed me.I indicated that I had seen her，and acknowledged her perfunctorily with a wave of the hand and a look of recognition.
When I thought that，after the ball，she would be leaving，not with me，but with that wealthy oaf，when I pictured what would very likely happen after they got back to her apartment，the blood rushed to my face and I felt a need to upset the course of true love.
When the quadrille was over，I went over and said good evening to the hostess who，for the benefit of her guests，was displaying a dazzling pair of shoulders and much of her magnificent breasts.
She was a beautiful girl，more beautiful，in terms of her figure，than Marguerite.This was brought home to me even more forcibly by certain glances which Marguerite cast towards Olympe as I was speaking to her.The man who became this woman's lover could be every bit as pleased with himself as Monsieur de N，and she was beautiful enough to start a passion the equal of the one which Marguerite had inspired in me.
At that time，she had no lover.It would not be difficult to remedy that.The trick was having enough gold to fling about in order go get oneself noticed.
My mind was made up.This woman would be my mistress.
I took the first steps in my initiation by dancing with Olympe.
Half an hour later，Marguerite，pale as death，put on her fur-lined cape and left the ball.