Chapter

 1 1 |      circumstance, I alone can write these things, for I alone
 2 2 |    reach me until later, but I write them here so as not to be
 3 4 |     down the story which I now write. ~The rooms, now emptied
 4 4 |     much of your esteem that I write every day the journal of
 5 4 |        when I shall be able to write no longer. If the interest
 6 4 |  friend. Pardon me if I do not write a longer letter, but those
 7 4 |         and my hand refuses to write any more. ~ "MARGUERITE
 8 5 |       pretend to cry over, and write on their tombstones all
 9 11|        her appointment, but to write and tell her my fears and
10 12|  refuse. All I could do was to write and tell you where I was
11 13|      six years ago I could not write my own name. You are relieved,
12 14|      but, seeing that I do not write, she will write to me to-morrow. ~
13 14|       I do not write, she will write to me to-morrow. ~That night,
14 14|     such letters, one does not write them."' ~"In what tone did
15 14| against the other." ~"But if I write and ask her forgiveness?" ~"
16 16|      me as possible, she would write to me in the morning that
17 17|   early hour, and promising to write to me the moment he went,
18 17|  receiving no reply, ceased to write, and that Marguerite and
19 21|    leave you like this. I will write and tell my father not to
20 24|      mistress, and that I must write and tell her to respect
21 24|       left me. ~I did not even write to tell Olympe not to expect
22 25|         where are you, while I write these lines? Far from Paris,
23 26|    three days that I could not write you a word. No news, my
24 26|     doctor tells me I must not write every day. And indeed my
25 26|      which it contained. I can write to you, then, to-day. This
26 26|     permit me, then, simply to write to you, madame, to tell
27 26|     whom he was kind enough to write so consoling a letter wept
28 26|    dead. ~Who knows if I shall write to you to-morrow? ~January
29 26|      looking after me, lets me write these few lines to you.
30 26|      hold the pen with which I write to you of this wild dream
31 26|     She has made me promise to write to you when she can no longer
32 26|     you when she can no longer write, and I write before her.
33 26|     can no longer write, and I write before her. She turns her
34 26|   supported by two footmen. ~I write you these details from her