# The Story of Manon Lescaut and of the Chevalier des Grieux/Chapter 3

Chapter III.
On our arrival at Paris we took a furnished apartment in the Rue V——— and (to my sorrow, as events proved) near the house of Monsieur de B———, a well-known Farmer-General. Three weeks went by, during which I was so entirely absorbed in my passion that I scarcely gave a thought to my family, or to the grief which my father must have felt at my absence. As, however, there was nothing approaching to debauchery in my conduct, and as Manon also behaved with every regard for propriety, the quietness of our life served to recall me gradually to a sense of duty.
​I resolved, if possible, to effect a reconciliation with my father. My mistress was so lovable that I had no doubt of her being able to win his favor, if I could but find a way of making her modesty and her many other merits known to him. In a word, I was sanguine enough to believe that I could obtain his consent to my marrying her, having by this time been disabused of any hopes I had once entertained of doing so without his approval.
I communicated this project to Manon, and impressed upon her that not only did considerations of duty and affection dictate my taking this step, but that it was almost a matter of necessity for us, as our funds were seriously diminished, and I was beginning to realize that they were far from being as inexhaustible as I had supposed. Manon received the proposition coldly. However, as she based her objections to it only upon the ground of her love for me, and her fear of my being lost to her should my father disapprove of our plans after he had learnt our place of retreat, I was left without the faintest suspicion of the cruel blow that was about to be inflicted upon me. To the plea of necessity she replied that we still had enough to support us for a few weeks longer, and that after that she would have recourse to the kindness of some relations in the country, to whom she would write. She softened her refusal by caresses so tender and so impassioned, that I, whose life was wrapped up in her and who had not the slightest misgivings as to her loyalty, applauded alike her arguments and her intentions.
I had left in her hands the disposal of our money and the care of defraying our ordinary expenses. I soon began to observe that our daily fare was becoming more luxurious, and that she had indulged herself in some costly adornments of dress. As I was well aware that we could not have more than twelve or fifteen pistoles remaining, ​at the very most, I expressed my surprise to her at this apparent augmentation of our wealth. She laughingly begged me to give myself no uneasiness on that score. "Did I not promise you," she said, "that I would find some resources?" I loved her too confidingly to be quick to take alarm.
One day, having occasion to go out during the afternoon, I told her before I went that I expected to be away longer than usual. On my return I was surprised to be kept waiting two or three minutes at the door. Our only servant was a young girl of nearly our own age. When she came to let me in, I asked her why she had delayed so long. She replied, with evident embarrassment, that she had not heard me knock.
"I knocked only once," I said to her, "so, if you did not hear me, what made you come to the door?"
This question so disconcerted her that, not having presence of mind enough to think of a plausible answer, she burst into tears, assuring me at the same time that it was not her fault, as her mistress had forbidden her to open the door until Monsieur de B——— had gone out by the back stairway which led from the dressing-room. I was so stunned by this intelligence that all my strength ​deserted me, and, feeling utterly unable to enter our apartment until I had recovered myself, I determined to leave the house again under the pretext of having some further business to attend to. I accordingly ordered the girl to inform her mistress that I should return in a few minutes, but not to mention that she had told me anything about Monsieur de B———.
I was so completely overcome that, as I made my way down-stairs, I could not restrain my tears, though as yet I scarcely knew from what feeling they arose. I went into the nearest café, and there, seating myself at a table and burying my face in my hands, I tried to innavel the chaos of emotions which were surging in my heart. I dared not recall what I had just heard, but sought to cheat myself into believing it all a dream. More than once I was on the point of going back to our lodgings and acting as though I knew nothing of the occurrence. It seemed to me so impossible that Manon could have been unfaithful to me, that I feared to wrong her even by a suspicion. I adored her—that was certain; I had given her no greater proofs of my love than I had received of hers; why, then, should I accuse her of being less sincere and constant than myself? What reason could she have had ​for deceiving me? But three hours ago she had lavished her tenderest caresses upon me, and had welcomed mine with rapturous delight. I knew my own heart no better than I knew hers. "No! No!" I said again; "Manon cannot be false; it is impossible! She knows too well that I live only for her—that I worship her; these, surely, cannot be reasons for depriving me of her love!"
Argue as I would, however, I could not stifle my uneasiness at Monsieur de B———'s visit and his stealthy departure. I called to mind, also, Manon's little purchases, which seemed to me beyond our present means. They were certainly suggestive of the liberality of a new lover. And then, again, the confident manner in which she had alluded to resources which were unknown to me? I found it difficult to interpret all these enigmas in as favorable a sense as my heart desired.
On the other hand, I considered that she had scarcely been out of my sight since we had come to Paris. In all our occupations, our walks, and our amusements, we were invariably together. Great Heavens! a moment's separation would have been an intolerable affliction for us. It had become a necessity of our lives to be constantly interchanging assurances of our mutual love; to forego ​that sweet privilege would have been torture to us. I could thus conceive of scarcely a moment during which any one but myself could have been in Manon's thoughts.
At last I flattered myself that I had found the solution of the mystery. "Monsieur de B———," I said to myself, "is a man who does an extensive business and has widespread connections. Manon's relations have doubtless remitted some money to her through him. She has probably already received some from him, and he came to-day to bring her more. No doubt she has taken innocent amusement in concealing it from me in order to give me a pleasant surprise. Perhaps she would have told me all about it had I gone in as usual instead of coming here to torture myself; at all events, she will not keep me in the dark any longer when I mention the matter to her."
I fortified myself so resolutely with this view of the affair that it served sensibly to diminish my distress. Returning home at once, I embraced Manon with my accustomed tenderness. She received me affectionately. At first I was tempted to reveal my conjectures to her, feeling more certain than ever that they were correct; but I restrained myself, in the hope that she might anticipate me by telling me of her own accord all that had occurred.
When supper was served, I sat down to the table with an air of great gayety; but, by the light of the candle which was placed between us, I detected, as I imagined, an expression of sadness in the face and eyes of my dear mistress. This thought inspired me, too, with melancholy. I observed that there was something unusual in the manner in which she looked at me. Whether to think it love or pity, I scarcely knew; but the sentiment, whatever it was, seemed to me a tender and wistful one.
I gazed at her with equal intentness; and, perhaps, she was no less at a loss to divine from mv face what were ​the feelings in my heart. It never occurred to us either to speak or to eat. At last I saw her eyes fill with tears—false, perfidious tears!
"Great Heavens!" I cried, "you are weeping, dearest Manon—yes, weeping! and yet you have not confided to me one word of the grief which thus moves you to tears!"
Her only answer was a sigh, which added to my distress. I arose from my seat, trembling with emotion, and besought her, with all the vehemence of love, to tell me why she wept. Tears coursed each other down my own cheeks as I wiped away those that fell from her eyes. I was more dead than alive, and in an agony of grief and anxiety which it would have touched the heart of a barbarian to behold.
While thus preoccupied with her I heard the sound of several footsteps on the stairs. Some one tapped softly at the door. Manon gave me a kiss, and, disengaging herself from my embrace, hurried into the dressing-room, quickly closing the door after her. Merely supposing that, as her toilet was somewhat disarranged, she wished to avoid being seen by the strangers who had knocked, I went to the door myself.
Scarcely had I thrown it open when I found myself ​seized by three men, whom I recognized as servants of my father's. They offered me no violence; but, two of them having grasped me by the arms, the third searched my pockets, from which he took a small knife—the only weapon I had about me. They begged me to pardon them for the necessity they were under of treating me so disrespectfully, and told me frankly that they were acting by my father's orders, and that my eldest brother was waiting for me in a coach below.
My astonishment and agitation were so great that I suffered myself to be led away without attempting to resist or to reply. My brother was awaiting me, as they had said. They put me into the coach beside him, and the coachman, who had received his orders, drove us rapidly toward St. Denis. My brother embraced me affectionately, but did not speak to me; so that I had all the leisure I required to ponder over my misfortune.
It seemed to me, at first, so wrapped in obscurity that I could not see my way even to a plausible conjecture to account for it. I had been cruelly betrayed—but by whom? Tiberge was the first person who occurred to my mind. "Traitor!" I exclaimed to myself, "your life shall answer for this, if my suspicions prove correct!" However, ​I reflected that he did not know where I had been living, and that consequently they could not have obtained the information from him.
As for accusing Manon, my heart refused to be guilty of such a suspicion. The unaccountable sadness under which I had seen her laboring, her tears, the tender kiss which she had given me as she withdrew, all these, indeed, were enigmas which I found it hard to unriddle; but my impulse was to interpret them as arising from a presentiment of our common misfortune; and, in the midst of my despair at the untoward event which had torn me from her side, I had the credulity to imagine that she was even more to be pitied than myself.
The result of my meditations was the conviction that I had been seen in the streets of Paris by some acquaintance who had informed my father of the fact. This thought consoled me. I reckoned upon escaping with no worse consequences than a severe upbraiding, or, possibly, some disagreeable punishment for my rebellion against the paternal authority. I resolved to endure them patiently, and to promise whatever might be required of me, in order to facilitate my speedy return to Paris, so that I could restore life and happiness to my beloved Manon.
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