I FOUND Armand in bed.
When he saw me，he held out his hand.It was hot.
'You have a temperature，'I said.
'It won't come to anything-the fatigue of a hurried journey，nothing more.'
'Have you come from Marguerite's sister's？'
'Yes，who told you？'
'I just know.And did you get what you wanted？'
'Yes，again.But who told you about my journey and my reasons for making it？'
'The gardener at the cemetery.'
'You saw the grave？'
I scarcely dared answer，for the tone of these words convinced me that the person who had said them was still in the grip of the same distress I had already witnessed，and that every time his thoughts or something that someone said brought him back to this painful subject，then for a long time to come，his emotions would go on getting the better of his will.
I settled therefore for answering with a nod.
'Has he taken good care of it？'continued Armand.
Two large tears rolled down the sick man's cheeks，and he turned his head away to hide them from me.I pretended not to notice and tried to change the subject.
'You've been away three weeks，'I said.
Armand passed his hand over his eyes and answered：
'Three weeks exactly.'
'It was a long journey，then.'
Oh！I wasn't travelling all the time.I was ill for a fortnight.Otherwise I would have been back long ago；but I'd only just arrived when a bout of fever got me and I was forced to keep to my room.
'And you set off again without being fully fit.'
'If I'd stayed another week in that place，I would have died there.'
'But now you're back，you must look after yourself.Your friends will call to see you.And I shall be the first among them，if you'll allow me.'
'In two hours I shall get up.'
'This is most unwise！'
'I must.'
'What have you to do that's so urgent？'
'I have a call to pay on the superintendent of police.'
'Why not let someone else see to a matter that may well make you more ill than you are now？'
'It's the only thing that can make me well.I must see her.Ever since I've known she was dead，and especially since seeing her grave，I haven't been able to sleep.I cannot conceive that the woman I left so young and beautiful can really be dead.I must check for myself.I have to see what God has done with a being I loved so very much，and then perhaps the loathesomeness of the sight will chase away the despair of my memories；you will come with me，won't you……unless you'd find it too tiresome？'
'What did her sister tell you？'
'Nothing.She seemed very surprised that a stranger should wish to buy a burial plot and have a headstone put up to Marguerite，and she signed the authorization I asked her for at once.'
'Take my advice：wait until you are properly fit before having the body transferred.'
'Oh！Don't worry：I shall be strong.Anyway I should go mad if I didn't get what I've decided over and done with as quickly as possible：the need to see it through has become part of my grief.I swear to you that I shall not rest easy until I've seen Marguerite.It may be a craving of the fever which burns in me，a dream born of sleepless nights，an effect of my ravings；but even if I have to become a Trappist monk first to manage it，then like Monsieur de Rance，once I have seen，I shall see.'
'I can understand that，'I told Armand，'and you have my complete support.Did you see Julie Duprat？'
'Yes.Oh，I saw her the day I got back，the first time I returned.'
'Did she hand over the papers which Marguerite had left for you？'
'They're here.'
Armand pulled a roll of papers from beneath his pillow，then put it back immediately.
'I know what these papers contain by heart，'he said.'These last three weeks，I have re-read them ten times each day.You shall read them too，but later，when I'm calmer and can make you understand how much feeling and love this confession reveals.For the moment，I have a favour to ask you.'
'What is it？'
'You have a carriage downstairs？'
'Yes.'
'Well，would you be so good as to take my passport，call at the bureau and ask if they are holding any letters for me poste restante？My father and my sister must have written to me here in Paris，and I left in such a hurry that I didn't take time to see before I set off.When you get back，we'll go together to inform the police superintendent of tomorrow's ceremony.'
Armand handed me his passport and I went round to the rue Jean-Jacques-Roussear.
There were two letters in the name of Duval.I picked them up and returned.
When I reappeared，Armand was fully dressed and ready to go out.
'Thank you，'he said，taking the letters.'Yes，'he added，after glancing at the addresses，'yes，they are from my father and my sister.They must have been totally mystified by my silence.'
He opened the letters and guessed at，rather than read their contents，for each was four pages long，and after a moment he folded them up again.
'Let's be off，'he said，'I'll reply tomorrow.'
We went to see the superintendent of police，and Armand handed over Marguerite's sister's letter of attorney.
In return，the superintendent gave him an advice note for the cemetery keeper；it was agreed that the transfer of the remains should take place the following day at ten in the morning，that I should come and collect him an hour beforehand and that we would drive to the cemetery together.
I too was curious to be present at the spectacle，and I confess I did not sleep that night.
Judging by the thoughts which assailed me，it must have been a long night for Armand.
When I entered his apartment at nine the following morning，he was horribly pale，but appeared calm.
He smiled at me and held out his hand.
His candles had burned right down and，before leaving，Armand picked up a very thick letter，addressed to his father，which had doubtless been the confidant of the night's reflections.
Half an hour later，we were at Montmartre.
The superintendent was already waiting for us.
We made our way slowly in the direction of Marguerite's grave.The superintendent led the way，Armand and I following a few paces behind.
