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can speak a word。
The doctor tells me that she is not here for long。 Since she got so ill the
old duke has not returned。 He told the doctor that the sight was too much
for him。
Mme。 Duvernoy is not behaving well。 This woman； who thought she
could get more money out of Marguerite； at whose expense she was living
almost completely； has contracted liabilities which she can not meet； and
seeing that her neighbour is no longer of use to her； she does not even
come to see her。 Everybody is abandoning her。 M。 de G。； prosecuted for his
debts； has had to return to London。 On leaving； he sent us more money； he
has done all he could； but they have returned to seize the things； and the
creditors are only waiting for her to die in order to sell everything。
I wanted to use my last resources to put a stop to it； but the bailiff told
me it was no use； and that there are other seizures to follow。 Since she
must die； it is better to let everything go than to save it for her family；
whom she has never cared to see； and who have never cared for her。 You
can not conceive in the midst of what gilded misery the poor thing is dying。
Yesterday we had absolutely no money。 Plate； jewels； shawls； everything
is in pawn； the rest is sold or seized。 Marguerite is still conscious of what
goes on around her； and she suffers in body； mind； and heart。 Big tears
trickle down her cheeks； so thin and pale that you would never recognise
the face of her whom you loved so much； if you could see her。 She has
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made me promise to write to you when she can no longer write； and I
write before her。 She turns her eyes toward me； but she no longer sees me；
her eyes are already veiled by the coming of death； yet she smiles； and all
her thoughts； all her soul are yours； I am sure。
Every time the door opens her eyes brighten； and she thinks you are
going to come in； then； when she sees that it is not you； her face resumes
its sorrowful expression； a cold sweat breaks out over it； and her cheek…
bones flush。
February 19； midnight。
What a sad day we have had to…day； poor M。 Armand！ This morning
Marguerite was stifling； the doctor bled her； and her voice has returned to
her a while。 The doctor begged her to see a priest。 She said 〃Yes；〃 and he
went himself to fetch an abbe' from Saint Roch。
Meanwhile Marguerite called me up to her bed； asked me to open a
cupboard； and pointed out a cap and a long chemise covered with lace； and
said in a feeble voice：
〃I shall die as soon as I have confessed。 Then you will dress me in
these things； it is the whim of a dying woman。？
Then she embraced me with tears and added：
〃I can speak； but I am stifled when I speak； I am stifling。 Air！〃
I burst into tears； opened the window； and a few minutes afterward the
priest entered。 I went up to him； when he knew where he was； he seemed
afraid of being badly received。
〃Come in boldly； father；〃 I said to him。
He stayed a very short time in the room； and when he came out he said
to me：
〃She lived a sinner； and she will die a Christian。〃
A few minutes afterward he returned with a choir boy bearing a
crucifix； and a sacristan who went before them ringing the bell to
announce that God was coming to the dying one。
They went all three into the bed…room where so many strange words
have been said； but was now a sort of holy tabernacle。
I fell on my knees。 I do not know how long the impression of what I
saw will last； but I do not think that； till my turn comes； any human thing
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can make so deep an impression on me。
The priest anointed with holy oil the feet and hands and forehead of
the dying woman； repeated a short prayer； and Marguerite was ready to set
out for the heaven to which I doubt not she will go； if God has seen the
ordeal of her life and the sanctity of her death。
Since then she has not said a word or made a movement。 Twenty times
I should have thought her dead if I had not heard her breathing painfully。
February 20； 5 P。M。
All is over。
Marguerite fell into her last agony at about two o'clock。 Never did a
martyr suffer such torture； to judge by the cries she uttered。 Two or three
times she sat upright in the bed； as if she would hold on to her life； which
was escaping toward God。
Two or three times also she said your name； then all was silent； and
she fell back on the bed exhausted。 Silent tears flowed from her eyes； and
she was dead。
Then I went up to her； I called her； and as she did not answer I closed
her eyes and kissed her on the forehead。
Poor； dear Marguerite； I wish I were a holy woman that my kiss might
recommend you to God。
Then I dressed her as she had asked me to do。 I went to find a priest at
Saint Roch； I burned two candles for her； and I prayed in the church for an
hour。
I gave the money she left to the poor。
I do not know much about religion； but I think that God will know that
my tears were genuine； my prayers fervent； my alms…giving sincere； and
that he will have pity on her who； dying young and beautiful； has only had
me to close her eyes and put her in her shroud。
February 22。
The burial took place to…day。 Many of Marguerite's friends came to the
church。 Some of them wept with sincerity。 When the funeral started on the
way to Montmartre only two men followed it： the Comte de G。； who came
from London on purpose； and the duke； who was supported by two
footmen。
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I write you these details from her house； in the midst of my tears and
under the lamp which burns sadly beside a dinner which I can not touch；
as you can imagine； but which Nanine has got for me； for I have eaten
nothing for twenty…four hours。
My life can not retain these sad impressions for long； for my life is not
my own any more than Marguerite's was hers； that is why I give you all
these details on the very spot where they occurred； in the fear； if a long
time elapsed between them and your return； that I might not be able to
give them to you with all their melancholy exactitude。
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