A month went by in this manner, but a month was all I could bear. The memory of Marguerite accompanied me wherever I went. I had loved that woman -- still loved her -- too much for her suddenly to mean nothing to me. Whatever feelings I might have for her now, I had to see her again. At once. ... I knew Marguerite. Meeting me so unexpectedly must have thrown her into a state of great confusion. Probably, she had heard of my departure which had set her mind at rest as to the consequences of our sudden parting. But, seeing me back and coming face to face with me, weak as I was, she had sensed that my return had a purpose, and must have wondered what was going to happen. If, when I saw her again, Marguerite had been unhappy; if, in taking my revenge  , there had also been some way of helping her then I might well have forgiven her, and would certainly never have dreamed of doing her any harm. But when I saw her again, she was happy, at least on the surface. Another man had ensured her the wealthy life in which I had been unable to keep her. She brought shame both to my pride and my love; she was going to have to pay for what I had suffered. I could not remain cold to what she did now. It followed that the thing that would hurt her most would be exactly for me to show coldness. Coldness, therefore, was the feeling which I now needed to pretend, not only in her presence but in the eyes of others. I tried to put a smile on my face, and I went to call on Prudence with whom Marguerite was staying. ... Prudence saw me to the door, and I returned to my apartment with tears of anger in my eyes and thirst for revenge in my heart and thought only of finding a way to make the poor creature suffer. What would the author most probably write about next?
Why he changed his mind suddenly. How he made up his relationship with Marguerite. How he made Marguerite suffer. Why he wanted Marguerite to pay for what he had suffered.