'Do you have the right to destroy her future？Are you strong enough to？In the name of your love and your repentance，Marguerite，give me my daughter's happiness.'
I wept in silence，my dear，as I listened to all these considerations which had already occurred to me many times，for now，on your father's lips，they seemed even more pressing and real.I told myself all the things your father dared not say，though they had often been on the tip of his tongue：that I was，when all was said and done，nothing but a kept woman，and whatever I said to justify our affair would sound calculating；that my past life did not qualify me to dream of the future；and that I was taking on responsibilities for which my habits and reputation offered absolutely no guarantee.The truth was that I loved you，Armand.The fatherly way in which Monsieur Duval spoke，the pure feelings he aroused in me，the good opinion of this upright old man which I should acquire，and your esteem which I was certain I would have some day，all these things awoke noble thoughts in my heart which raised me in my own estimation and gave a voice to a kind of sacred self-respect which I had never felt before.When I thought that this old man，now begging me for his son's future，would some day tell his daughter to include my name in her prayers，as that of a mysterious benefactress，I was transformed and looked on myself with pride.
In the heat of the moment，the truth of what I felt may perhaps have been exaggerated.But that is what I felt，my dear，and these unaccustomed feelings silence counsels prompted by the memory of happy times spent with you.
'Very well，'I said to your father as I wiped away my tears.'Do you believe that I love your son？'
'Yes，'said Monsieur Duval.
'That money does not come into it？'
'Yes.'
'Do you believe that I had made this love of mine the hope，the dream of my life，and its redemption？'
'Absolutely.'
'Well，Monsieur Duval，kiss me once as you would kiss your daughter，and I will swear to you that your touch，the only truly chaste embrace I ever received，will make me stand strong against my love.I swear that within a week，your son will be back with you，unhappy for a time perhaps，but cured for good.'
'You are a noble-hearted young woman，'your father replied，as he kissed my forehead，'and you are taking upon yourself a task which God will not overlook.Yet I fear that you will not change my son's mind.'
'Do not trouble yourself on that score，Monsieur Duval：he will hate me.'
A barrier had to be erected between us which neither of us would be able to cross.
I wrote to Prudence saying that I accepted Count de N's proposition，and said that she could go and tell him I would have supper with them both.
I sealed the letter and，saying nothing of what it contained，I asked your father to see that it was delivered the moment he got back to Paris.
Even so，he enquired what was in it.
'Your son's happiness，'I answered.
Your father embraced me one last time.On my forehead，I felt two tears of gratitude which were，so to speak，the waters of baptism which washed away my former sins and，even as I consented to give myself to another man，I shone with pride at the thought of everything that this new sin would redeem.
It was all quite natural，Armand.You once told me your father was the most upright man anyone could hope to meet.
Monsieur Duval got into his carriage and drove off.
Yet I was a woman，and when I saw you again，I could not help weeping.But I did not weaken.
Was I right？That is the question I ask myself today when illness forces me to take to my bed which I shall perhaps leave only when I am dead.
You yourself witnessed all that I suffered as the time for our inevitable separation drew near.Your father was not there to see me through，and there was a moment when I came very near to telling you everything，so appalling was the idea that you would hate and despise me.
One thing that you will perhaps not believe，Armand，is that I prayed to God to give me strength.The proof that He accepted my sacrifice is that He gave me the strength I begged for.
During the supper party，I still needed His help，for I could not bring myself to face what I was about to do，such was my fear that my courage would fail me！
Who would ever have told me that I，Marguerite Gautier，would be made to suffer such torment by the simple prospect of having a new lover？
I drank to forget，and when I woke next morning，I was in the Count's bed.
This is the whole truth，my dear.Judge now，and forgive me，as I have forgiven all the hurt you have done me since that day.'
