# The Story of Manon Lescaut and of the Chevalier des Grieux/Chapter 7

Chapter VII.
I was, if anything, more ill at ease when I left Lescaut than I had been on going to see him. I even regretted that I had confided my secret to him. He had done nothing for me that I could not have obtained equally well without making the disclosure; and I was in mortal dread lest he should break the promise I had exacted from him of divulging nothing to Manon. I had reason to apprehend, moreover, from the sentiments which he had avowed, that he might decide to turn her to some profit—to use his own expression—by taking her from me, or, at any rate, by advising her to desert me and attach herself to a richer and more fortunate lover.
This led me into a train of reflections which resulted only in torturing my mind and renewing the despair to which I had been a prey that morning. An idea which suggested itself to me more than once, was to write to my father, leading him to beheve that I was again penitent and anxious to reform, and so to obtain some pecuniary assistance from him. But I had a very vivid recollection of the fact that, in spite of all his kindness, he had kept me a close prisoner for six months as a punishment for my first offence; and I had little doubt that after such a scandal as must have been caused by my flight from St. Sulpice, he would treat me with much greater severity.
​At last, out of the chaos of my thoughts, there arose one which at once set my mind at rest; and I wondered that it had not sooner occurred to me. This was, to appeal to my friend Tiberge, on whose continued affection and sympathy I felt that I could always count. There is no higher tribute to virtue than the confidence with which we always turn to those whom we know to possess integrity of character. We feel that we run no risk; if they are not always in a position to offer us actual assistance, we are sure, at least, of obtaining kindness and consideration at their hands. Our hearts, so carefully closed to the rest of our fellow-men, expand freely in their presence, just as a flower buds forth under the rays of the sun, from which it expects none but kindly and genial influences.
It seemed to me that it was by the interposition of a protecting Providence that I had so opportunely remembered Tiberge. I resolved to find some way of seeing him before the day was ended; and, hastening back to our lodgings, I wrote him a few lines, appointing a suitable place for an interview. I pledged him to silence and discretion, as among the most valuable services he could render me in the existing condition of my affairs.
The prospect of seeing him inspired me with a cheer​fulness which banished the traces of grief that Manon must otherwise have detected in my face. I alluded to our mishap at Chaillot as a trifle which need cause her no alarm; and since, of all places in the world, she loved best to be in Paris, she did not disguise her delight when I told her that it would be advisable for us to remain there until some slight damage caused by the fire at Chaillot had been repaired.
An hour afterwards I received an answer from Tiberge, promising to meet me at the place I had named. Full of impatience, I hastened to the spot. I was conscious, nevertheless, of a certain sense of shame in thus going to face a friend whose very presence could not but be a rebuke to my irregularities. Still, my belief in the largeness of his heart, and my devotion to Manon's interests, served to embolden me.
I had asked him to meet me in the garden of the Palais Royal, and found him awaiting me there. No sooner did he see me than he ran forward to embrace me. For a long time he held me clasped in his arms, and I felt my face moistened by his tears. I told him that it was with feelings of shame and embarrassment that I had sought his presence, and that my heart was filled with a keen ​sense of my own ingratitude. "Before all else," said I, "let me conjure you to tell me whether I may still regard you as my friend, after having so justly merited the loss of your affection and esteem?"
He replied in a tone of the utmost tenderness that nothing could make him renounce that title; that my very misfortunes, and—if I would permit him to say so—the errors and immorality of my conduct, had increased his affection for me; but that it was an affection mingled with the deepest pain—such as we feel for a beloved one whom we see tottering on the brink of ruin without being able to succor him.
We seated ourselves upon a bench.
"Alas!" I said to him, with a sigh that rose from the bottom of my heart: "Your compassion for me must indeed be measureless, my dear Tiberge, if you can assure me that it is equal to the misery I feel! I blush to lay it bare before you; for I confess that its cause is not altogether a glorious one; but its results are so sad that, even did you love me less than you do, you could not but be moved by them."
He begged me, as a proof of my friendship, to tell him unreservedly all that had happened to me since my flight from St. Sulpice. I complied, and, so far from deviat​ing in any respect from the truth, or glossing over my faults with a view to making them appear more excusable, I dwelt upon my passion with all the vehemence with which it inspired me. I described it to him as one of those special fatalities which single out their unhappy victim for inevitable ruin, and against which it is as impossible for virtue to struggle successfully as it is for Wisdom to foresee their coming.
I drew a vivid picture of my mental agitations, of my fears, and of the despair which had taken possession of me two hours before I saw him; as well as of that in which I should again be plunged if I were abandoned by my friends as pitilessly as I had been by fortune. In short, I so touched good Tiberge's kind heart, that I saw he was suffering as much out of sympathy with me as I was from the sense of my own troubles.
He embraced me again and again, and exhorted mo to take courage and be consoled. As he assumed all the while, however, that I must part from Manon, I gave him distinctly to understand that the very prospect of such a separation was what I regarded as the greatest of my misfortunes; and that I was prepared to suffer the worst extremes of misery—aye, death in its cruelest form—before I would submit to a remedy more intolerable than all my sorrows combined.
"Let me understand you, then," he said. "What help can I give you if you rebel against all my proposals?"
I dared not confess that what I wanted from him was pecuniary aid. He comprehended at last that such was the case, however; and, after telling me that he thought he saw my meaning, he sat for some time buried in reflection, as though he were carefully weighing his decision.
"Do not imagine," he resumed before long, "that my hesitation arises from any diminution of the warmth of ​my friendship and affection. But to what an alternative do you reduce me, if I must either refuse you the only aid that you will accept, or else violate my sense of duty in granting it to you! For would it not be taking part in your immorality were I to supply you with the means of persisting in it? However," he continued, after a moment's thought, "I suppose it may be that the state of desperation into which poverty has driven you scarcely leaves you free to choose the better course. Calmness of mind is essential for the appreciation of wisdom and truth. I will find a way of letting you have some money. Allow me, my dear Chevalier," he added, pressing my hand, "to attach only this one condition to my doing so: that you tell me where you are living, and give me leave at any rate to use my best endeavors to bring you back to the path of virtue, which I know you love, and from which you are led astray only by the violence of your passions."
I gave my willing consent to all that he desired, and begged him to commiserate me on the malignity of fate which allowed me to profit so little by the counsels of so virtuous a friend.
He then took me at once to a banker of his acquaintance, who advanced me one hundred pistoles on his note ​of hand; for Tiberge was anything but well supplied with ready money. I have already said that he was not a rich man. His living brought him in a thousand crowns, but as this was the first year of his incumbency he had not as yet received any of the revenue from it; and it was on his prospective emoluments that he made me this advance.
I appreciated his generosity to the full, and was so deeply affected by it as to deplore the blindness of a fatal love, which forced me to violate all the dictates of duty. For a few brief moments Virtue gathered sufficient strength in my heart to rebel against the tyranny of my passion; and I realized, at least during that instant of light, the shame and indignity of the fetters by which I was bound. But the struggle was a feeble one, and of short duration. The sight of Manon would have made me fling myself down from heaven itself; and I was amazed to think, when I found myself once more at her side, that I had been capable for one moment of regarding as shameful so justifiable an affection for so lovely an object.
Manon's character was a singular one. Never had a girl less attachment to money than she; yet she could not know a moment's peace when confronted by the fear ​of being in want of it. Pleasure and diversion were necessities to her. She would never have cared to possess a penny, if enjoyments could have been obtained without spending one. She did not so much as concern herself to inquire into the extent of our resources, provided she could pass the day agreeably; so that, as she was neither excessively devoted to the card-table, nor capable of being dazzled by the ostentation of gross extravagance, nothing was easier than to satisfy her by providing her day by day with amusements to her taste.
But it was so much a matter of necessity with her to be thus engrossed in pleasure that there was no counting, without this, upon the turns of her humor and her inclinations. Although she loved me tenderly, and I alone, as she was eager to admit, could make her taste in all their sweetness the delights of love, I was yet almost convinced that her affection would not hold its own in face of apprehensions of a certain kind. She would have preferred me to all the world, as long as I was in possession of a fair fortune; but I had no doubt whatever but that she would desert me for some new B——— should I have nothing left to offer her but constancy and fidelity.
I resolved, therefore, to regulate my personal expenses so carefully that I should always be in a position to sup​ply the money for hers, and to forego any necessities of my own rather than limit her even in superfluities. The coach gave me more anxiety than anything else, for there did not seem to be any likelihood of our being able to keep the horses and coachman. I confided my uneasiness on this point to M. Lescaut. I had not concealed from him the fact that I had received a hundred pistoles from a friend of mine. He told me again that if I felt disposed to try the chances of the gaming-table, he was not without hopes that, by sacrificing with a good grace a hundred francs or so in treating the members of the fraternity, I might, on his recommendation, be admitted into the League of the Chevaliers d'Industrie. Repugnant as the idea of cheating was to me, I suffered myself to be overruled by cruel necessity.
M. Lescaut introduced me that very evening as a relative of his own. He added that I was the more eager to succeed from the fact that I stood in need of the greatest favors Dame Fortune could bestow. In order to show them, however, that my straits were not those of a pauper, he told them that it was my intention to treat them to supper.
The offer was accepted, and I regaled them in princely ​style. For some time they talked of nothing but my advantages of person and of manner. It was generally agreed that there was every promise of my success, as there was something about my face and air that savored of the man of honor, and that would prevent any one's suspecting me of unfair play. Finally, they expressed their thanks to M. Lescaut for having made the acquisition of a novice of my merits for the Order, and appointed one of the Chevaliers to devote several days to giving me the requisite instructions.
The principal theatre of my exploits was to be the Hôtel de Transilvanie, where there was a faro table in one saloon, and various other games of cards or of dice in the gallery. This gaming-house was kept for the ​profit of the Prince of R———, who then resided at Clagny, and the majority of whose officers were members of our Society.
To my shame be it said, I made rapid progress under the lessons of my instructor. I acquired special facility in making a false cut and in veering a card; while, aided by a pair of long ruffles, I shuffled and palmed with an adroitness that deceived even the watchful eyes of adepts, and enabled me to fleece many an unsuspecting player at my pleasure. My remarkable dexterity so hastened the progress of my fortunes that within a few weeks I found myself in possession of a considerable sum, even apart from the gains which I felt myself bound in honor to share with my confederates.
I no longer feared, under these circumstances, to inform Manon of our loss at Chaillot; but, in order to console her on breaking this unpleasant news to her, I hired a furnished house, in which we took up our abode with every appearance of affluence and security.
During all this time Tiberge had not failed to pay me frequent visits. He was never done with his moralizing. Untiringly did he point out to me the wrong I was doing my conscience, my honor, and my fortunes. I received his ​admonitions in a friendly spirit, and, though I was not in the least disposed to heed them, I took his zeal on my behalf in good part, knowing, as I did, the source from which it arose. Now and then I would banter him good-naturedly, in Manon's very presence, and would urge him not to be more scrupulous than many a bishop and other ecclesiastic who found no difficulty in reconciling a mistress and a benefice. "Look there," I would say to him, pointing to the eyes of my own lady-love, "and tell me if there be any faults which so beautiful a cause would not justify?" He did not lose patience, and, indeed, bore with me very far; but when he saw that I was growing richer day by day, and had not only repaid him his hundred pistoles, but, having taken a new house and doubled my expenditure, was about to give myself up more completely than ever to pleasure, his whole tone and manner underwent a change.
He upbraided me for my callousness, warned me of the penalties of Divine displeasure, and predicted some of the misfortunes that were not long in overtaking me.
"You cannot make me believe," he said to me, "that the money which serves to maintain you in your immoralities comes to you in a legitimate way. You have acquired it wrongfully; and even so will it be snatched ​from your grasp. The most terrible of all punishments God could inflict on you would be to leave you to enjoy it undisturbed. All my admonitions," he added, "have been wasted upon you; and I foresee only too clearly that they are in danger of becoming irksome to you. Farewell, therefore, weak and ungrateful friend! May your guilty pleasures vanish like shadows; may your good fortune and your money be lost to you irretrievably; and, as for yourself, may you be left, destitute and alone, to realize the vanity of those joys which have so madly infatuated you! Then, and only then, will you find me ready to love and to aid you. For the time being, I break off all intercourse with you, in detestation of the life you are leading!"
This apostolic tirade he delivered to me in my own room, in Manon's presence, and then rose to depart. I made an effort to detain him, but was checked by Manon, who said that he was a madman whom we were well rid of.
His words, however, did not fail to leave some impression upon me. I thus note the various occasions when I felt my heart revert toward rectitude, because it was to the memory of such moments that I afterwards owed much of the strength which supported me during the unhappiest hours of my life.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.