Am I not yours, your very own, heart and soul? To me you are
everything: and there is nothing I could expect or hope for from another
which you have not already given me. Was I not yours, alone, from the
very first? I never hesitated to give myself entirely to you; I felt
that I was born for you, Guy, do you remember? I was working for a lace
maker, and was barely earning a living. You told me you were a poor
student; I thought you were depriving yourself for me. You insisted on
having our little apartment on the Quai Saint-Michel done up. It was
lovely, with the new paper all covered with flowers, which we hung
ourselves. How delightful it was! From the window, we could see the
great trees of the Tuileries gardens; and by leaning out a little we
could see the sun set through the arches of the bridges. Oh, those happy
days! The first time that we went into the country together, one Sunday,
you brought me a more beautiful dress than I had ever dreamed of, and
such darling little boots, that it was a shame to walk out in them! But
you had deceived me! You were not a poor student. One day, when taking
my work home, I met you in an elegant carriage, with tall footmen,
dressed in liveries covered with gold lace, behind.
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