A man appeared and entered the shop; he sat down beside her. Great God! did not my eyes deceive me? It was Raymond! Raymond with Nicette! Raymond her lover! No, no; that was impossible!
I rushed out of the café to make sure of the truth. Someone ran after me and stopped me. It was the waiter; I had forgotten to pay. I did not understand very well what he said, but I put three francs in his hand and he left me. The darkness allowed me to remain in the street unseen by Nicette, while I could see her plainly. It was in very truth Raymond whom I had seen, whom I saw. He was talking to her very earnestly, and she listened with attention. I read in her eyes the interest she took in what he was saying; she seemed more distressed than ever, she wept. He took her hand and squeezed it tenderly! She did not withdraw it! That lovely hand abandoned to Raymond! Ah! it was all over, I could no longer doubt my misfortune. I felt that I must fly while I still had strength to do so, and must never see her again! If only I could at the same time banish her image from my thoughts! But the idea that she loved Raymond crushed me, haunted me incessantly! So it was for Raymond's benefit that I had preserved intact that flower which it would have been so sweet to me to pluck! I respected her innocence, and this was my reward!
If some respectable young man, of obscure station like herself, had won her heart while seeking her hand, I might perhaps have consoled myself; at all events, I should have been proud of having kept her pure and worthy of his vows. But that such a fellow as Raymond should triumph over Nicette! By what spell could he have fascinated her? He was neither young nor handsome; he was a stupid, vain, chattering bore! If there was anything lovable about him, I had never discovered it! And that was the man she preferred to me! Oh! these women!
I was no longer surprised at the embarrassment I had observed in Raymond's manner when we last met. The traitor! so that was why he avoided me. The fellow was my evil genius, in very truth! He knew that I knew Nicette; he knew, perhaps, that I loved her. If I had listened to nothing but my rage, I should have gone to him and insulted him. But how can one obtain satisfaction from a dastard? and would his death make Nicette what I formerly believed her to be? I would despise one and forget the other; that was the only course for me to pursue.