Paris by the Faubourg St. Antoine, which was
the road to our new residence.

"This plan, extravagant as it was, appeared to us satisfactorily
arranged. But our greatest folly was in imagining that, succeed as we
might in its execution, it would be possible for us to escape the
consequences. Nevertheless, we exposed ourselves to all risk with the
blindest confidence. Manon took her departure with Marcel--so was the
servant called. I could not help feeling a pang as she took leave of
me. 'Manon,' said I, 'do not deceive me; will you be faithful to me?'
She complained, in the tenderest tone, of my want of confidence, and
renewed all her protestations of eternal love.

"She was to be in Paris at three o'clock. I went some time after. I
spent the remainder of the afternoon moping in the Cafe de Fere, near
the Pont St. Michel. I remained there till nightfall. I then hired a
hackney-coach, which I placed, according to our plan, at the end of the
street of St. Andre-des-arcs, and went on foot to the door of the
theatre. I was surprised at not seeing Marcel, who was to have been
there waiting for me. I waited patiently for a full hour, standing
among a crowd of lackeys, and gazing at every person that passed. At
length, seven o'clock having struck, without my being able to discover
anything or any person connected with our project, I procured a pit
ticket, in order to ascertain if Manon and G---- M---- were in the
boxes. Neither one nor the other could I find. I returned to the door,
where I again stopped for a quarter of an hour, in an agony of
impatience and uneasiness. No person appeared, and I went back to the
coach, without knowing what to conjecture. The coachman, seeing me,
advanced a few paces towards me, and said, with a mysterious air, that
a very handsome young person had been waiting more than an hour for me
in the coach; that she described me so exactly that he could not be
mistaken, and having learned that I intended to return, she said she
would enter the coach and wait with patience.

"I felt confident that it was Manon. I approached. I beheld a very
pretty face, certainly, but alas, not hers. The lady asked, in a voice
that I had never before heard, whether she had the honour of speaking
to the Chevalier des Grieux? I answered, 'That is my name.' 'I have a
letter for you,' said she, 'which will tell you what has brought me
here, and by what means I learned your name.' I begged she would al