"In making love to her, he did what any other man would have done in his place. You ought not to bear him any grudge for it; on the contrary, you ought to be grateful to him, for he has taught you to know a woman who was making a fool of you."

"I believe you are right," said Frederic sadly, seating himself in an easy-chair, while Dubourg, now wide awake, thought it a fitting moment to deliver a lecture to his friend.

"Listen to me, my dear Frederic; I am older than you are, I have seen a good deal of the world, and I have a large store of experience, although I still do foolish things. Now, let me tell you that you have an unfortunate tendency to indulge in sentimental and romantic pa.s.sions, which will do you a bad turn some day. You absolutely insist on being loved, adored, if you will! d.a.m.nation! do you mean to pa.s.s your life sighing? Is that the way a young man ought to make love? It isn't that you are in reality more constant than other men, for this is your seventh ill-fated pa.s.sion in the year that I have known you. The great trouble is that your seven pa.s.sions have all left you first, whereas you ought to have taken the initiative. However, you have always found consolation thus far, and you will this time too, I promise you. But, my friend, don't, I implore you, take on so seriously for what ought to be simply a youthful folly. You must have a certain amount of sentiment, to gratify the ladies, but you mustn't overdo it; because, you see, excess of sentiment kills sentiment; and what I am saying to you is perfectly reasonable; I am sure that your father, the count, would agree with me, if he were here, and that he would be overjoyed to find that you have a friend who gives you nothing but good advice, and who would give you a lot more--if he had not lost last night the five hundred francs his poor aunt sent him."

Frederic had not listened very attentively to Dubourg's speech; but he had grown calmer, because the most violent tempests are always of the shortest duration, and the young man believed himself to be much more in love than he really was.

"How does it happen that I find you here in the middle of the night?" he asked Dubourg, at last.

"My dear fellow--what do you suppose?--a succession of unlucky circ.u.mstances. In the first place, my landlord, who is a genuine _Vulture_; secondly, an evening party at little Delphine's--you know, I took you there once; but as you must always have a touch of sentiment in everything, you never went again; and yet, she would have given you some, for your money, that would have been worth quite as much as Madame Dernange's. Lastly, I played, and I lost all that I possessed! Really, I didn't know which way to turn. But I thought of you; I know how loyal your friendship is. At first, I didn't expect to see you until to-morrow; but, finding everything in commotion in this house, it occurred to me that I might wait for you here; and I have had a nap while your charmer was being spirited away from you."

"Poor Dubourg!"

"Yes, very poor, in truth!"

"Listen; I have an idea."

"Let's hear it."

"I am sick of life in Paris."

"I shall soon be much sicker of it, as I haven't a sou."

"The sight of all these coquettes makes me ill."

"Oh! it's sure to do that."

"I propose to run away from the disloyal hussies."

"I don't know just where you can go to avoid them."

"These parties where you talk without saying anything; where you make acquaintances, but not friends; where you go because you have nothing else to do, rather than for pleasure,--I am tired of the whole business.

I have been going into society only two years and a half, and I am sick of it already. This is my plan----"

"Do you mean to become a hermit?"

"No; but I mean to leave Paris for some time; I mean to travel, to visit different countries; in that way, by comparing the manners and customs of the different peoples, by admiring the wonders and beauties of nature, a man can best form his mind and his judgment and increase his store of knowledge; and in that way the heart is made acquainted with pleasures which it could never know in these worldly gatherings, inspired by idleness and governed by etiquette."

"Powerfully argued!" cried Dubourg, rising from his reclining-chair; "you must travel, my dear fellow, there is nothing better for the young.

But when a man travels alone, he is always bored to death; one can't be more than half happy when he has no one to whom he can impart the sentiments inspired by a beautiful landscape, an ancient monument, or an imposing ruin! Besides, you are too young to run about the world alone; you need a companion who is wise, well informed, and, above all, experienced; well, my friend, I offer myself as your mentor."

"I was about to make the same suggestion, my dear Dubourg."

"Parbleu! I accept with great pleasure."

"But is there nothing to keep you in Paris?"

"Oh! nothing at all, not even a cot-bed."

"No affair of the heart?"

"Oh! with respect to affairs of the heart, I am not like you! I will form attachments as we go along, or, better still, I'll give them up altogether. My mind is made up; I propose to be virtuous and orderly; you will be edified by my behavior."

"Well, then, my dear Dubourg, it is settled that we travel together."

"There is just one little difficulty left: suppose your father doesn't want you to travel?"

"Oh! I don't think that he'll object; I have already mentioned the subject to him, and he seemed to approve of it."

"Then everything will go as nicely as possible; but will you tell him that you are going to take me?"

"Why not? I shall say that a friend of mine, who is also about to travel, will be able to accompany me for some time."

"All right; arrange it as best you can; if necessary, you can present me to your father, who hardly knows me, and you will see what a dignified and imposing manner I can a.s.sume. Above all things, don't mention little Delphine, or my aunt, or my supposed marriage, or my triplets."

"Never fear."

"As for my family, if it isn't n.o.ble, that doesn't prevent its being as good as the Comte de Montreville's, and very highly esteemed in Bretagne."

"Oh! mon Dieu! I know all that."

"It isn't on your account that I say it, but your father's. So, then, it's agreed. It is broad daylight now; I have slept enough, but you need rest. Go to bed; during the day, you can speak to your father, and come and tell me what he says. I'll expect you at six o'clock, at the Cafe de la Rotonde."

"Agreed."

"By the way, I forgot! Lend me a dozen louis; I owe you thirty already, but we will settle up when I get my next remittance from my aunt."

"That's all right; ought there to be any settling among friends?"

"Ah! my dear Frederic, there aren't many friends like you!"

Dubourg pocketed the twelve louis which Frederic handed him; then, leaving his friend to go to bed, he went away from the house, humming a new couplet, and strolled along the boulevards, as well pleased as if he had just been appointed to a twelve-thousand-franc office where he would have nothing to do.

During the day, Frederic went to see his father. He trembled slightly when he appeared before him, and the count, instead of a.s.sisting his son to confide in him, waited silently for him to say what he wanted.

Having bowed respectfully, Frederic began his speech, in which he floundered a little at times, because the count's eyes, fastened on his face, seemed determined to read his inmost thoughts. He set forth his project, however, and awaited in fear and trembling his father's reply.

The count seemed to reflect, and did not speak for some minutes.

Frederic dared not break the silence, and at last the count spoke.

"You wish to leave Paris, Frederic?"

"Yes, monsieur le comte."

"Are you tired already of its pleasures--b.a.l.l.s and parties? It is rather early for that."

Frederic sighed, but made no reply.

"You haven't told me everything," continued the count, with a sarcastic smile. "Confess that some disappointment in love----"