I begged M. Duval to sit down by the fire; he did so, and, taking his
handkerchief from his pocket, hid his face in it for a moment.
"You must be at a loss to understand," he went on, sighing sadly, "for
what purpose an unknown visitor, at such an hour, in such a costume, and
in tears, can have come to see you. I have simply come to ask of you a
great service."
"Speak on, sir, I am entirely at your disposal."
"You were present at the sale of Marguerite Gautier?"
At this word the emotion, which he had got the better of for an instant,
was too much for him, and he was obliged to cover his eyes with his
hand.
"I must seem to you very absurd," he added, "but pardon me, and believe
that I shall never forget the patience with which you have listened to
me."
"Sir," I answered, "if the service which I can render you is able to
lessen your trouble a little, tell me at once what I can do for you, and
you will find me only too happy to oblige you."
M. Duval's sorrow was sympathetic, and in spite of myself I felt the
desire of doing him a kindness. Thereupon he said to me: "You bought something at Marguerite's sale?"
"Yes, a book."
"Manon Lescaut?"
"Precisely."
"Have you the book still?"
"It is in my bedroom."
On hearing this, Armand Duval seemed to be relieved of a great weight,
and thanked me as if I had already rendered him a service merely by
keeping the book.
I got up and went into my room to fetch the book, which I handed to him.
"That is it indeed," he said, looking at the inscription on the first
page and turning over the leaves; "that is it in deed," and two big
tears fell on the pages. "Well, sir," said he, lifting his head, and no
longer trying to hide from me that he had wept and was even then on the
point of weeping, "do you value this book very greatly?"
"Why?"
"Because I have come to ask you to give it up to me."
"Pardon my curiosity, but was it you, then, who gave it to Marguerite
Gautier?"
"It was!"
"The book is yours, sir; take it back. I am happy to be able to hand it
over to you."