I received your letter this morning.Oh，how I needed it to come！Will my reply reach you in time？Will you ever see me again？This is a happy day which has helped me forget the days which I have spent these last six weeks.It seems to me that I am a little better，in spite of the miserable feeling which was my mood when I wrote you my reply.
After all，we cannot be unhappy all the time.
And then I fall to thinking that perhaps I won't die，that you will come back，that I shall see the spring once more，that you love me still，and that we shall begin the life we had last year all over again……！
But this is madness！It is as much as I can do to hold the pen which writes to you of these wild longings of my heart.
Whatever the outcome，I loved you very much，Armand，and I should have already been dead a long time if I had not had the memory of my love to sustain me，and a kind of vague hope of seeing you by my side once more.
4 February
Count de G is back.His mistress has been unfaithful to him.His spirits are very low，for he loved her very much.He came and told me the whole story.The poor man's affairs are in a bad way，though this did not prevent him from paying off my bailiff and dismissing the watchman.
I talked to him about you，and he has promised to talk to you about me.It's strange but，as I spoke，I completely forgot that I used to be his mistress once and，no less strangely，he tried to make me forget too！He is a decent sort.
Yesterday，the Duke sent round to enquire after me，and he came himself this morning.I cannot think what can keep the old man going.He sat with me for three hours，and did not say much above a score of words.Two great tears came to his eyes when he saw how pale I was.No doubt the memory of his daughter's death made him cry so.
He will have seen her die twice.His back is bent，his head is thrust forward and downward，his mouth is slack and his eyes are dull.The double weight of age and grief bears down upon his tired body.He did not say one word of reproach.It was as though he found some secret satisfaction in observing what ravages disease has produced in me.He seemed proud to be still standing，whereas I，who am still young，have been laid low by my sufferings.
The bad weather has returned.No one comes to see me now.Julie sits up with me as often as she can.I cannot give Prudence as much money as I used to，and she has begun saying that she has business to attend to as an excuse for staying away.
Now that I am near to death-in spite of what the doctors say，for I have several，which only shows how the disease is gaining on me-I am almost sorry I listened to your father.If I had known that I would have taken just one year out of your future，I would not have resisted my longing to spend that year with you，and then，at least，I should have died holding the hand of a friend.Yet it is clear that had we spent that year together，I should not have died so soon.
Let Thy will be done！
5 February
Oh，come to me，Armand，for I suffer torments！God，I am about to die！Yesterday，I was so low that I felt I wanted to be somewhere other than here for the evening，which promised to be as long as the one before，The Duke had been in the morning.I have a feeling that the sight of this old man，whom death has overlooked，brings my own death that much nearer.
Although I was burning with fever，I was dressed and taken to the Vaudeville.Julie had rouged my cheeks，for otherwise I should have looked like a corpse.I took my place in the box where I gave you our first rendezvous.I kept my eyes fixed the whole time on the seat in the stalls where you sat that day：yesterday，it was occupied by some boorish man who laughed loudly at all the stupid things the actors said.I was brought home half dead and spat blood all night.Today I cannot speak and can hardly move my arms.God！God！I am going to die！I was expecting it，but I cannot reconcile myself to the thought that my greatest sufferings are still to come，and if……'
After this word，the few letters which Marguerite had tried to form were illegible，and the story had been taken up by Julie Duprat.
18 February
Monsieur Armand，
Since the day Marguerite insisted on going to the theatre，she has grown steadily worse.Her voice went completely，and then she lost the use of her limbs.What our poor friend has to bear is impossible to describe.I am not used to coping with such suffering，and I go in constant fear.
Oh，how I wish you were here with us！She is delirious for most of the time，but whether her mind is wandering or lucid，your name is the one which she says when she manages to say anything at all.
The doctor has told me that she does not have much longer to live.Since she has been so desperately ill，the old Duke has not been back.
He told the doctor that seeing her like this was too much for him.
Madame Duvernoy has not behaved very well.She thought she would still be able to go on getting money out of Marguerite，at whose expense she has been living on a more or less permanent basis，and she took on obligations which she cannot meet.Seeing that her neighbour is no further use to her，she does not even come to see her any more.Everyone has deserted her.Monsieur de G，harried by his debts，has been forced to return to London.Before going，he sent us money.He has done all he could，but the men have been back with repossession orders，and the creditors are only waiting for her to die before selling her up.
